Complications Arose
by tanzfieber
Summary: Captain Jack Sparrow is a wily captain and a feared pirate. He is a skilled swordsman and a cunning thief. He commands the fastest ship in the Caribbean. However, nothing could ever have prepared him for complications that arose one night in Tortuga...
1. Familiar Places and Familiar Faces

This is a story that you might think is very like others posted here. In fact, you will most likely be of that exact opinion. The reason that you would find it similar is simply in the fact that the bare-bone idea is one that has been worn out like a pair of old sneakers. In this story, Captain Jack Sparrow finds out that he has a—yes, you guessed it. A daughter. Hmm, to write that it seems cliché even to me. Oh well, I'm doing this because I find that I like the idea, but that far and few between stories have done the plot justice. Don't be offended if you've written one of those stories, I'm sure yours is fine, I perhaps just didn't take to it. Anyhow, enough of my rambling. Comment if you feel the need, say whatever you wish. 

…TanzFieber

"And all of ye know the code, fall behind and get left behind!" Jack Sparrow, _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, called this final reminder to the retreating backs of his crew with a satisfied smile. He couldn't blame them for being so eager; it had been quite some time, even a year, since the _Black Pearl_ had put to port in Tortuga—

Tortuga. The very name of the place caused the hair on the back of his neck to prickle in anticipation. The last free port in the Caribbean, a place for any mother's son who called himself pirate. An unsavoury place to be sure, overrun by even more unsavoury inhabitants and visitors, Tortuga was dank, dirty, and full of all things uncivilised. Rum literally flowed through the streets, brawls roiled in and out of doors, and pleasurable company could be found wherever it was sought. Aye, Tortuga, seemingly the one place left on the map where a man was not judged by his name or his wealth, but by his skill with a sword and his capacity for drink.

Captain Jack Sparrow took all of this in from the railing of the _Pearl_, and felt his insides squirm minutely in excitement. No, he could not blame his crew in the least. However, he did think that the captain of the most feared ship in the Caribbean should behave in a more dignified manner, and so he refrained from running down the galley plank towards the town as his fellow buccaneers had done. Instead he gave a curt nod to Mr. Cotton, the man on first watch, and proceeded to the docks in his trademark lackadaisical way.

"Captain Sparrow, thought ye were dead, mate!"

"Captain Jack, sure an' we thought ye'd be in a drunken stupor in Singapore by now!"

"Well strike me, 'tis the grand ole Captain Jack Sparrow hisself! Is it true yer under a curse that turns ye into a woman at night?"

These calls flew from all directions as he meandered through the dim streets, most of them with a distinctly drunken slur to them. For his part, Jack merely nodded absently and waved them off, knowing his reputation was all the more terrifying when he neither confirmed nor denied said rumors. Besides that, it amused him greatly that he no longer had to invent fantastic stories to bolster the name of Captain Jack Sparrow, there were now people who had already done it for him!

The pirate captain continued his weaving trek into the town, stepping over comatose drunkards and avoiding brawls as they appeared in his path. Ah yes, the typical comforting mayhem of Tortuga, now the only pressing issue was deciding which he wanted first—rum or pleasurable company.

Spying half of his crew already staked out at one of his favorite watering holes, the Faithful Bride, Jack Sparrow made up his mind that rum was first on the agenda and was just about to enter when a less-ambiguous voice threaded its way through the noise.

"Captain Jack Sparrow, Alive and well, I see!"

Jack whirled on his heel, coattails flying, and smiled his most dashing gold smile at she who had called his name. "Scarlet!"

He spread his hands wide disarmingly at the red-headed woman who was eyeing him unfavorably. She wore a tight dress and an even tighter expression as he approached. "Aye, Luv, in the unscathed flesh, contrary to popular rumor!"

Instead of an answer, he received a hard slap across the face.

"That's fer goin' to Giselle last time ye were here, ye two-timing snake!" She announced haughtily. "Aye, I knew about that one, Captain Sparrow!"

For his part, Jack merely rubbed at his stinging jaw and filled his eyes with what he assumed to be injured innocence. "Why Scarlet, I'm terribly hurt to find myself privy to such accusations as being a disloyal patron! In fact, I was well on me way to findin' yer lovely self when I was no less than accosted by that harlot, Giselle! She got me drunk and took advantage of me, darling, I myself was nothing more than an almost innocent bystander!"

"Hah! Got YOU drunk? Oh Jack Sparrow, yer a drunken cad all by yerself, an' make no mistake!" She scoffed and he held up a finger to interrupt her.

"Ahem, that would be Captain, Luv. _Captain_ Jack Sparrow is a drunken cad all by his onesies—"

This time he had the foresight to duck, and instead of landing square the slap sent his beloved tri-cornered hat spinning. Scarlet laughed shrilly and made a mocking curtsy at him.

"Oh, all due apologies, Captain... We're THROUGH!" She accentuated this claim with a stamp of her heeled boot and a swirling pivot that caused Jack to be hit in the face by her hair as she walked away. The captain had just begun making terrible faces at her back when she whirled again to face him and he made rather a fool of himself trying to look innocent after being caught with his tongue sticking out and his eyes crossed. Scarlet cackled again.

"And by the way, Captain Sparrow… Speakin' of Giselle, I've heard tell that she too has something to give ye! Best beware, yer piratin' days could well be over!" And with that, the tall red-head turned again and became lost in the crowd.

Jack Sparrow stood for a moment with a bemused expression on his face before shrugging. He bent low with a flourish and picked up his beaten hat, lovingly dusting it off before replacing it upon his head. As for what that woman Giselle could possibly be wanting to give him… Well, he could guess what it was and would just have to remember to duck again. There was nothing in the entire cosmos that could stop he, Captain Jack Sparrow, from pilfering and plundering his weasely black guts out!

Having reassured himself with that thought, Jack squared his shoulders and walked into the Faithful Bride, concerned only with obtaining that rum.


	2. Jack's Hat and Newest Effect

"Mother's love, Captain Jack, that neck o' yourn'll be hurtin' somethin' awful if'n ye sleep thatways!" 

Jack Sparrow groaned and twisted slightly, opening his eyes to find Joshamee Gibbs staring down at him. "Gibbs..?"

"Aye Cap'n, what be ye doin' on the floor like tha'?" the man queried with a somewhat amused expression. Jack was lying on the floor of the Faithful Bride in what appeared to be a very uncomfortable position—on his side with one leg draped over a small keg and his head pillowed on a piece of broken chair. Empty bottles were strewn about the pirate captain and the half-empty one clutched in his fist indicated that they had all previously held rum. The prone man under scrutiny groaned again and brought a hand to his face.

"Ugh, damn Tortuga rum… s'always stronger 'n I'm used to aboard the _Pearl_…" He mumbled, closing his eyes against the pounding in his head that was made stronger by the daylight. After a moment he peeked out through one cracked eyelid and found Gibbs still standing by him dutifully. "Was it somethin' ye wanted then, Gibbs?"

The crewman nodded sheepishly and Jack's annoyed sigh and half-hearted wave of the hand prompted him to speak. "Well, s'just that 'tis late morning, Captain Sparrow…"

"Aye, what of it? Ye've disturbed me rest t'inform me of the time o' day?"

"Well y'see… The orders ye gave said tha' we were t'make sail on Sunday at high tide…"

"I'll ask ye only one more time, Gibbs: Why're ye bloody wakin' me up to tell me what me own orders are! I also remember tellin' ye that I would be back on Sunday, an' not to bother me afore then!" Jack snapped as loudly as he could without causing his already aching head to explode.

"It _is_ Sunday, Captain."

Jack fell silent for a few moments before making a supreme effort to sit up slightly. His whole body hurt, which was a bit of a mystery until he reasoned that if what Gibbs had said was true, three days was certainly enough time to have been in a few brawls. Apparently the rum from Tortuga was far more potent than he had originally thought, potent enough to have turned the last three days into a rum-soaked haze he couldn't discernibly remember!

"Sunday, ye say?" He asked finally, gazing blearily up at Gibbs who was still standing respectfully by his captain's battered body.

"Aye, Sunday."

"High tide yet?"

"Not for another half hour, though the crew was gettin' a bit antsy when ye hadn't shown yer face."

"Hmm. Ye came lookin' fer me, Gibbs. Why? What of the code?"

Gibbs only smiled crookedly, his hands askance. "Yer the captain, Captain! No pirate's as good as yerself an' the crew respects that!"

Jack Sparrow pondered this for a few moments before looking back up at his mate skeptically. Under the accusing stare, the man shrugged and laughed a bit nervously.

"Well, the fact that yer the one wit the magical compass may have 'ad somethin' to do with things… But the crew do respect ye, Captain!" He finished quickly, and the pirate captain only snorted in satisfaction before holding out a hand to be helped up.

"Bloody pirates," He said simply, receiving a grin from Gibbs as well as a boost to his feet. "S'no matter anyhow, back to the _Pearl_, mate… I've 'ad enough rum t'last me a lifetime!" The pair began picking their way through the bodies that littered the tavern floor and Gibbs laughed out loud.

"The usual twoscore kegs of rum t'be loaded into yer personal stores then, Captain?"

Captain Jack Sparrow winked and managed to make a somewhat unstable bow. "Aye, that'll about do it."

Once out in the bright Caribbean sunshine, both men winced and shielded their eyes. The street, like the Faithful Bride, was positively paved with all manner of inebriated buccaneers, and they had to watch where they were stepping to avoid falling over the prone bodies. Just as they had reached the dock where the _Black Pearl_ was moored, however, Gibbs happened to glance over at his captain.

"Captain, don't rightly know how to tell ye this… But where's yer hat?"

Jack Sparrow stopped dead in his tracks and patted his head all over, as if perhaps he would find his beloved tri-corne somewhere in his tangled mane of hair. "Oh Bugger," He finally mumbled, a scowl on his face. He turned to go back the way he had come when Gibbs grabbed his arm.

"But Captain, we sail in ten minutes time!" the mate protested, motioning urgently towards the _Pearl_.

"Not without me hat, Gibbs! Won't be but a moment!" Jack called out, having already begun his frantic, slightly effeminate stumble/run/flail journey back up the dock into the port of now-awakening Tortuga.

Five minutes later found Captain Sparrow once more within the Faithful Bride, and he cast about frantically beneath tables and behind barrels in search of his weather-beaten hat. After a few minutes of fruitless searching, he fell ungracefully to the floor having tripped over a sleeping drunk.

"Bloody pirates," He spat again as the man he had fallen over merely snored loudly and rolled over, but then forgot about his anger as his eyes fell upon a certain article. "Me hat!" Jack picked himself up and sauntered over to the fugitive headpiece. He picked it up, fixed a few dents in it and once again replaced it upon his head at a jaunty angle. Once again complete and satisfied, the captain left the tavern.

He had hardly left the door however, when a female voice not unlike that of Scarlet reached his ears.

"Jack Sparrow!"

"_Captain_ Jack Sparrow, if ye please, Luv," He prompted automatically, turning to see the speaker. A wiry blond woman clad scantily in trademark harlot's garb stepped over a few bodies towards him. "Giselle, darling!"

"The rumors are true then—Ye haven't been killed off yet," She observed with a cold sweep of her eyes over him. It was obvious that she wasn't exactly thrilled about said confirmation.

"Aye, Luv, rest assured! I've come back t'ye lass, safe 'n sound! Funny ol' world, innit?"

"It's a bleedin' miracle ye haven't been strung up—"

"Not at all, dearie. Y'see, it's highly improbable that any of those bumbling Navy cads could get me 'andsome neck in a noose." Jack smiled dashingly and paused for effect before dropping his signature line. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. Savvy?"

Giselle merely rolled her eyes. "Oh, well I haven't come here to bandy words wit the likes o' you, Jack Sparrow," she told him, ignoring his mumbled insistence to be called 'captain,' "I've only come t'give ye back somethin' that ye so kindly gave me last time ye were in port,"

It was then that Jack put his finger on what had seemed amiss about their encounter thus far—she hadn't tried to slap him yet! The reason for this became clear as it finally registered that both hands were otherwise occupied by a cloth bundle. Before he could wonder what it contained, however, she had thrust it into his arms.

"T'was nine months o' hell, Jack Sparrow, hell that I could never repay ye for… But s'pose I'll have t'setttle for ye takin' the thing off me hands. Good luck wit yer newest adventure, Captain!" The blond woman shrilled, and disappeared into the growing crowd before he could say anything at all in reply.

Jack Sparrow stood there stunned for a moment, his hands now full of this odd gift. After a moment of wondering what she had meant about 'nine months of hell that she could never repay him for,' curiosity simply got the better of him. He loaded the thing into the crook of one arm and held the other hand poised above it as he scrutinized the misshapen package. When nothing out of the ordinary happened, the pirate captain tapped the bundle sharply three times with one finger.

"WAHHHHHHHHHHH!"

The noise that erupted from the previously dormant clothes caused Captain Jack to nearly leap out of his skin, and all but drop what had made the noise. Eyes wide in alarm, he used one hand to quickly flick open the corner of the blanket in his arms. His shocked stare was greeted by a gaze as dark as his own. A BABY! The pirate's breath stopped for a moment as two pairs of chocolate eyes took each other in for the first time.

_CLANG! CLANG! CLANGGG!_

The familiar bell of the _Black Pearl_ shattered his reverie and he jumped again. The small baby started crying again at his movement and at the noise, and Jack's mind began to whirl. The sound of those bells could only mean that the ship was about to depart—and here he was, _not_ onboard and holding a _child!_

"Oh Bugger," He mumbled again before holding the bundle out in front of him with both hands and staring at it wildly. The brown-haired little girl wailed louder than ever as the bedclothes fell away and she hung in the pirate's rough and unsure grasp.

Realising that his ship was about to leave him behind and that a crowd was beginning to stare at the spectacle of the notorious Captain Jack Sparrow holding a baby, Jack did the only thing he could: He turned on his heel and half stumbled/half ran down towards the docks, the caterwauling child held out at an arms-length as he went.


	3. Catching Up and Freaking Out

So how is it? Interesting thus far, I hope. If not totally compelling, then at least I hope that you find it well-written and free of annoying grammatical errors? Thank you if you have commented, and if you haven't, perhaps you will consider doing so. I appreciate any and all feedback.

...TanzFieber

"WAIT! STOP! NOT GOOD! STOP!" yelled Captain Jack Sparrow desperately at the sight of his ship pulling away from the docks. He continued his ungainly stumble down the remainder of the wooden mooring as fast as he could under the circumstances—the act being somewhat impeded by the screaming baby he still clutched in his hands. Just as he reached the end, however, he noted with increasing despair that his beloved _Black Pearl_ was just out of reach and the gap was widening quickly.

"COME BACK YE SCABROUS DOGS! YE'VE FERGOTTEN YER CAPTAIN!" He shouted, shifting his unhappy charge roughly to the crook of one arm so that he could wave frantically with the other. Just as he believed himself truly forgotten, a head popped up over the railing of the ship.

"Captain Jack! Up here!" It was Gibbs and he was waving around a coil of rope. "Grab 'hold, we'll pull ye in!" He threw the rope outwards and down where it landed in the outstretched hand of his tardy captain.

Realizing that he was about to get very wet, Captain Jack glanced down at the baby with a troubled expression. However, a jerk of the rope in his hand sent all thought away as both parties were pulled unceremoniously from the dock and into the ocean. For his part, Jack had the foresight to hold the child by its shirt up over his head in one hand; so that while he floundered under the water for a moment, she was kept mostly dry, dangling barely above the crest of the waves from the pirate's fist.

"Glug—!" Went Jack as he was dragged from the sea. He spat water and let out a grunt as he bumped twice against the rough barnacle-encrusted hull of the ship during the ascent. Moments later, he was hauled roughly in by willing hands and found himself in a sodden heap on the deck of the _Black Pearl_.

"Nice of ye to wait, eh?" He grumbled and all of his crew glanced away and mumbled something or other about orders. Rolling his eyes and deciding to ignore them for the time being, Jack brushed seaweed from himself and readjusted his hat, seemingly having forgotten about his newest acquisition.

Not for long, however, because all activity on the deck froze as a certain gurgle followed by an unmistakable cry was emitted from Captain Jack Sparrow's person. The crew stared at their captain and only then noticed that he had a mysterious bundle clutched to him, halfway inside his coat. Gibbs was the first to speak up.

"Strike me, Cap'n… What's that ye got inside yer coat? 'Tis not what it sounds like… is it?" the mate asked carefully, eyeing the bundle as if it were some poisonous reptile.

Jack swallowed hard and also glanced down, praying that perhaps in the time it had taken to get aboard, the child had magically turned into something more palatable—a bottle of rum, perhaps! However, as he felt it kick out, his stomach twisted in realization that no, it was definitely a baby and very much alive. Feeling he could not delay the inevitable any longer, Jack Sparrow reluctantly pulled his occupied hand from his coat.

The crew gasped and stepped back, only Gibbs creeping closer with wide eyes. "Cap'n—! There's a… a… Ye had a baby in yer coat!"

In any other circumstances, Jack would have rolled his eyes at the incredible perception that his mate had shown, but he himself was feeling just as shocked. Many sets of eyes stared down, and one tiny pair of eyes stared upwards in the heavy moments that followed.

Now exposed to the bright Caribbean sun, the little one turned and buried her small face in her keeper's shirt, one hand holding onto the fabric tightly. Suddenly galvanized into action, Jack Sparrow scrambled to his feet and quickly plucked the child away from himself, once again holding it at an arms length. She cried and he stared.

The baby girl, for it was obvious that was what she was, had dark curls upon her tiny head, and her eyes were just as deep brown as those gaping at her. Her skin was fair, although with the promise of a golden tan if exposed to the sun. Perhaps two months old, she still seemed petite and light as a feather in his hands. She cried and Jack stared. Once again, Joshamee Gibbs broke the silence.

"Cap'n… When I left ye not ten minutes ago ye didn't happen to have the babe stashed up yer sleeve, did ye?"

Jack shook his head dumbly, not able to take his uncomfortable gaze off of the child in his hands.

"Then what in the blazes happened between then and now! Ye didn't… steal it—?"

The pirate captain snapped out of his daze and glanced in annoyance up at Gibbs. "Of course not, ye think me completely daft?" He didn't wait for the answer, it was a rhetorical question and he pressed on, explaining what had happened. "T'was Giselle. Ye remember, the wench with the yellow hair?"

The rest of the crew nodded and Jack continued, speaking to them if he was speaking to reassure himself as well.

"Well, I was lookin' fer me hat and had jus' found it when Giselle came outta nowhere. She went on for bleeding ages about how she 'ad been wronged by me and all… typical song and dance, eh mates. So I was jus' about to leave when she snapped somethin' about having been through nine months o' hell and that I would have t'take back what it was I had given her…" he stopped here, guessing that they could fill in the rest. Gibbs knelt down and peered closer at the child.

"I'll uh. I take it she's _your_ child then, Cap'n Sparrow?" This question innocently put, and the answer rather obvious, but for some reason it sent Jack Sparrow over the edge.

"My child..? MINE? I don't care if the whelp is bloody well MINE or the mutant love-child of Davey Jones and Commodore Norrington! I'll have NOTHING t'do with the girl, d'ye hear me!" He suddenly thrust the child into the arms of a shocked Gibbs and stood to his full height, hands on his slim hips. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, Savvy? I don't DO babies! So ye can do what ye like with the whelp, Gibbs, an' the rest o' ye too! Chuck the thing overboard if ye want, keep it if ye want, but know this: if ye keep the girl aboard this ship, keep 'er outta me way!"

Gibbs and the crew remained frozen in shock as Captain Jack Sparrow whirled on his heel and stalked off of the main deck. The little girl's cries fell silent and she closed her eyes and burrowed in closer to Gibbs, who looked down upon her small form with pity. The girl's own father did not seem to want her, and being so small, what else could she do?

A resounding bang signaled the fact that the captain was now shut in his quarters, and rather vexed at that. Gibbs sighed resignedly.

"Looks like it's you 'n us now, lass," He murmured, getting to his feet with his new fragile charge and heading towards his own small cabin.


	4. A Daft Namesake

The seasons came and went, rain and shine, day in and day out. The initial turmoil that had arisen the day Captain Jack Sparrow had encountered certain complications in Tortuga died down after a few weeks, and things had returned to business as usual aboard the _Black Pearl_. Well, _almost_ business as usual.

A subtle change had come over the crew, and though Jack Sparrow pretended not to notice it, he could not truly deny that it had taken hold. The scurvy pirates that ran his ship had become... well... nice. No, perhaps not quite _nice_, for they still drank profusely and cursed abominably and brawled in the mess hall, but they DID tend to be a bit more–er, _smiley_. In the past, if Jack were to hint casually that they were about to embark on another of his wild goose chases instead of doing an honest speck o' piratin', all of his men would scowl mutinously and return to their duties only after the captain had painted elaborate pictures of the wealth that would await them _next_ time if they went along _this_ time. Nowadays, were he to let slip that instead of Tortuga they were bound for the swamps to locate some legendary map carved in a tree, Jack would be bowled over by an enthusiastic chorus of "AYES" before he had even MENTIONED the word "treasure." No more cajoling, no more bribery, Captain Jack Sparrow would return to the wheel stunned by the lack of such things.

_Perhaps the rum has finally soaked into their brains_... He would think to himself, but in the back of his mind he knew what the real reason was. It was that girl–whatsername. That four-year-old whirlwind of a nuisance who was always hanging from the rigging, jumping from the poop deck, and shimmying out the bowsprit to be splashed by the waves. Frankly, Jack could not see what on earth there was to like, but the rest of the crew seemed to delight in her every action. No matter what they were busy doing, if she happened to wander over they would stop and take the time to indulge in her games, or to let her help. The most dark-hearted scallywags in the Carribean, the most hardened scourges of the seas... the lot of them had a soft-spot for the liddle pestilence! She was turning his blood-thirsty crew of sea-dogs into sappy housewives!

Each day as the Captain stood stoically at the helm of the _Pearl_, he secretly watched and hoped that she would cause trouble. Perhaps tangles the lines, or annoy the bosun, or knock over the charts... but no. Gibbs and the rest had held up their end of the bargain when they had kept her–she was never in the way of Captain Sparrow. In fact, he was the only one she left bloody well alone. She would monkey around with the rest of them, sword fighting them with broken mop handles and racing them up the rigging, but would never come even within ten feet of the captain.

_She's frightened o' me_, he would think smugly to himself. _Good, s'the way it should be_. But sometimes, when he stood alone on the poop deck and watched the rest of the crew playing a spirited game of hide-and-seek, he could feel something twinge within his chest. Oh it was most definitely not _jealousy_. What a ludicrous idea that he could be longing to join in–He was Captain Jack Sparrow! No, it was probably just all the rum making his stomach feel all knotty. Yes, that was it. Most days Jack could convince himself of this... but some days even _he _couldn't swallow his own lies.

* * *

Captain Jack Sparrow sat alone at the head of the table in the mess hall, pushing his meal of stew around on the tin plate. He drew a stick-figure ship in the salty gravy and after surveying his artistic efforts for a moment, pushed the plate away from himself. A sigh escaped his lips as his gaze settled dully on the blade-scarred table. A few moments later, however, and he was startled by the door to the hall banging open and the sunlight pouring in.

"Why Cap'n, what ye be doin' hidin' in the dark on such a lovely day as this 'un?" It was a smiling Gibbs, and Jack relaxed his grip on the pistol his hand had automatically darted to.

"Bleedin' Hell Gibbs, don't ye know better 'n to startle me like that? An' I wasn't _hiding_. Merely thought t'feed meself before all that rum put me in a bloody coma." he scowled, but the chubby first mate merely shrugged and continued to grin.

"Apologies, Cap'n Jack, didn't know ye'd be in 'ere at this time o' day." Gibbs walked over to near where Jack was sitting and sat down himself. "By the by, how're ye gettin' along these days, Jack? We don't see a spit of ye these days, aside from when yer givin' headings for this new venture o' yourn."

Jack gazed levelly back and also shrugged his shoulders. "Busy with things of me own interest, Gibbs." He replied darkly, and once again the crewman seemed unfazed by the slight hostility.

"Ah, Cap'n, ye should c'mon out to the deck; Kelsea's teachin' us a new game o' hers: _Pirates an' Redcoats_–"

"What?" Jack interrupted him, and Gibbs sent him a glance of mild humor.

"'Tis a game she made up this very afternoon. Y'see, there's two teams and some's the pirates who've got to steal the ship from the redcoats an' the redcoats're tryin' t'capture all the pirates... Grand ol' bit o' fun, too– inventive liddle mite, that lass is–"

But Jack only waved his hand impatiently. "Not the game, ye barnacle head, who're ye talkin' about?"

Gibbs stared at him for a moment before replying slowly. "Kelsea..."

"Who the _bloody hell _is Kelsea?"

"Uh. Cap'n... the liddle lass who's been with us for nigh on five years now..." The expression on Jack Sparrow's face remained unreadable so the mate continued on carefully. "Y'know, Cap'n, the girl we picked up in Tortuga..? Yer dau–" Gibbs stopped short there, having caught himself in the nick of time. He had almost referred to the girl as Jack's _daughter_, and although it was the truth, the pirate captain simply refused to accept it. Woe to the poor soul who called attention to the relation between the two. Thinking quickly, he revamped what he had been about to say. "Yer dooo...n't remember, Cap'n?"

Jack, who had been waiting like a caged lion for Gibbs to blunder into saying those forbidden words, uncoiled himself and nodded curtly. "I know of the girl, Aye. I jus'... I didn' remember ye'd named the whelp is all."

Gibbs sighed inwardly in relief that he had just barely managed to escape the wrath of his lately enigmatic captain. "Oh, er, aye. Kelsea be her name, Cap'n."

"Kelsea, eh? Daft name if ye ask me. Who was it t'come up with such a bloody awful title?"

"T'was all've us really, Cap'n. Since we got her in Tortuga, Twigg was the one t'say that in his language, Kelseywith a 'y' means _Island of the Ships_. Then Marty said tha' he'd heard th'name "Kela" means _Little Sparrow_–so we put th'two together t'make Kelsea, _Little Sparrow of the Island of Ships_..." Gibbs trailed off here, realizing that he had just made the mistake of revealing that he and the crew had named the girl after the captain in that they had given her a first name that meant the same as his last. He braced himself for some sort of explosion, but surprisingly, it never came. He glanced over after a period of silence to see Captain Jack twirling his beaded goatee in thought.

"Hmm... Kelsea..." He murmured, a funny look surfacing in his normally shifty eyes. However, he then seemed to snap to and realize that Gibbs was regarding him in a funny way. "Hmph. Like I said: Daft name fer a daft annoyance of a girl. Think th'name 'whelp' suits me jus' fine."

Joshamee Gibbs quickly wiped the look of curiosity off of his features and shrugged once more. "Whatever suits ye, Captain... But beggin' yer pardon, I'll be gettin' back t'the crew now..." He got to his feet and turned to go when Jack's voice broke the silence.

"Aye, tell those lazy layabouts t'stop playin' games and get back t'work. Worthless cads, can't sail a ship if yer too busy indulgin' any incessant pest that comes along! That reminds me... while yer orderin' the crew back t'their duties, tell that girl, whatserface, t'leave 'em be fer once in her bothersome existence!"

Gibbs nodded quickly and saluted the obviously riled captain. "Aye, sir." And with that, he scurried out of the mess hall and the door shut behind him.

Captain Jack Sparrow was once again alone with his thoughts, and though he consoled himself with the thought that finally Gibbs would tell the whelp off... something in the very back of his mind wished that he had simply gone out to join in _Pirates an' Redcoats_. He would have made a _very _good pirate, after all...


	5. Like an Undead Monkey

Dearest readers— Hopefully you've thus far found the plot and the dialogue and the characters to your liking. Also, for those of you who were waiting for the daughter to become more central to the plot, the time is at hand; this chapter and henceforth will include interaction between the other characters and the whelp (heh). My thanks to you for doing so much as deciding that this story was worth a glance, and to those of you have reviewed, I appreciate it. 

...TanzFieber

More sun and more storms. More days and more weeks. Captain Jack Sparrow stood ever-impassively at the helm of the _Black Pearl_, his dark eyes roving over his working crew. Some were clambering up the rigging to hoist more sail before the stiff breeze, others swabbed the deck, and still others were heaving away at a cannon swinging from a block and tackle. Aye, they were hard-working buccaneers when he needed them to be, nobody could deny that... But where was the whelp?

Jack looked around some more, eyes even darting slightly aloft in search of the nine-year-old's agile frame. It was slightly unusual that she was out of sight and out of mind; especially since she had lately taken to stalking around behind him and making faces behind his back. Pestering fiend, she was undermining his authority as captain in the eyes of the crew, for all tried to avert their eyes and stifle chuckles at her antics. Perhaps the most annoying thing about it was that even in all of his cunning, he could not catch her in the act! She was quite the phantom menace, all innocence as soon as he whirled around.

_Aggravating liddle beastie... No proper respect for authority at all!_ he thought to himself again, pushing away the nagging thought that he himself took pride in lacking that very same characteristic. Anyhow, the point was that he still could not find her anywhere, and that was slightly disconcerting. He peeked around his shoulder, half expecting her to be standing behind him, but she wasn't there either. _Oh bugger it all..._

"GIBBS!" Jack roared, watching the man in question leaving his post to trot obediently to the helm.

"Aye, Cap'n?" Gibbs saluted somewhat glibly.

"Where's the whelp? F'that girl is gettin' in the way or makin' faces again I swear on Davy Jones's heart I'll boot 'er off next time we put in. Savvy?"

Gibbs spread his arms placatingly at his touchy captain and pointed aloft. "Nah, Cap'n, she's up the mast workin'. Th'lass be pullin' her weight 'round here, same's any piratin' fiend aboard this ship... though she's nary more 'n nine years old."

Jack looked upwards for a few moments, and then turned back to his mate with an accusatory air. "Well I don't see her, Gibbs..." he drawled smugly, but the first mate only smiled back and continued to motion up the mast.

"Wit all due respec'... Yer probably not lookin' high 'nough, Cap'n... See? She's up there'n the royal yard wit a pitch bucket 'n brush."

_The royal yard..? But that's th'very highest beam up the mast..!_ Jack shielded his eyes and tilted his head way back to see the entire length of the mast and then... "Bleedin' hellsteeth–!" He swore under his breath, for there she was: clinging to the highest spar more than one hundred feet above the rolling deck! "Th'whelp's completely mad"

Gibbs chuckled good-naturedly and shrugged his heavy shoulders. "Mayhaps yer right, Cap'n, but she won' listen a lick. Brave lidde mite, our Kelsea is; afeared o' nought and right dangerous with that mop handle o' hers… thank the fates she don' have a proper blade"

Jack had stopped listening to his mate and his own head was spinning as he watched the girl go about her task like a… like an undead monkey! _One hundred feet above the deck—?_ Even _he_ was a bit knock-kneed at such a height, although he would never admit it.

_Brave liddle whelp indeed_, he thought to himself rather grudgingly. _She's every bit as crazy brave as meself,_ the voice in his head said before he could block it out. After all, wasn't the saying _"Daft like Jack"_..? The feeling, the one he wanted to squash with all of his conscious mind was definable now: it was pride. But no, he would definitely not be having such thoughts, so he immediately turned to take out his frustrations on the easiest target: Gibbs, in this case.

"Call th'whelp down, Gibbs. I'll not have the deck o' me ship dirtied if'n she slips and comes crashin' t'the floor— imagine the bloody mess!"

"As ye wish, Cap'n Sparrow…" the heavy-set first mate turned his face aloft and put two fingers in his mouth, letting out a shrill whistle. "Kelse! C'mon down, lass!"

Swaying high above the pair, the dark-haired little girl known as Kelsea stopped what she was doing and peered downward. "M'not finished, Mr. Gibbs!" She called back to the tiny pair below, wrapping her legs tighter around the beam as the _Pearl_ seemingly tried to buck her loose.

"S'no matter, Cap'n Jack requires yer presence!"

Hearing this, Kelsea scrunched her face and sighed. _Not HIM again... always tryin' t'ruin me fun, ol' stick inna mud…_ she thought somewhat mutinously, although she had already looped her bucket over one arm and begun clambering back towards the mainmast.

Captain Jack Sparrow… now_ there_ was a man who was truly a mystery to the young girl. He always seemed particularly perturbed by her, though as far as she knew she had never done anything wrong by him. Not only that, but she had been told many times not to bother the captain and all of the crew seemed reluctant to even mention him to her. She got the strange feeling that the reason he did not like her had something to do with her parents—she did not know what, because she had never known them and Mr. Gibbs was pretty tight-lipped about the subject. All the same, as young as she was, Kelsea still knew deep down that she and Captain Jack had some sort of common history that caused him to act strange…er around her.

The other thing was that everyone spoke reverently of him as if he were a living legend—told stories of his exploits with sea-turtles, whispered about where he had gotten particular scars, raved about how he had sacked many a port single-handedly. Not knowing whether the stories were true, all the girl could rely on were her own opinions of the man, and as far as she was concerned… he was very _good_ at ruining fun and decidedly _bad_ at taking jokes. Besides, it seemed to her that if he were half the witty, clever, and cunning pirate everyone claimed he was, then why couldn't he do so much as catch her making faces at him? Or perhaps he _had,_ and _that _was the reason he wanted to see her. Deciding that she would just have to wait to find out, Kelsea set her mind to the dare-devil task of scaling down the mainmast to the deck.

Seemingly miles below her, the pirate and the crewman watched her descent in silence. Gibbs was proudly watching his protégé in all of her agility, and Jack was battling himself not to admire the same thing. Wanting very badly to look away, the captain removed his beloved hat and began dusting the non-existent dust from its corners. Meanwhile, Gibbs was still watching the girl he almost considered his own daughter with something akin to worry.

"Now watch yerself, lass," He warned in an unsure tone. "Th'lines can be a mite slippery…"

Kelsea, who was by now only forty feet above them, laughed aloud at her friend and shook her head. "Don' worry s'much, Mr. Gibbs… I never had a daddy an' I don' need one now!"

Jack heard these words and visibly winced before launching into a chorus of a pirate shanty underneath his breath to block out any more comments. _"Rascals, scoundrels, villans, and knaves, Drink up, me 'earties, yo ho… Nah nah nah nah… and really bad eggs…"_ He mumbled to himself, his eyes still cast downwards. However, the next thing he heard was a frightened squeak from above and a strangled gasp from his left…

The girl had continued her monkey-like scampering down the ratlines without seeming to take any more trouble than it would to walk across the deck, but had gone astray by not heeding Gibbs's warning. She had reached twenty feet and was about to mock the man again for flapping his arms at her like a mother duck… when suddenly her hands slipped. In her teasing she had failed to notice that the lines were suddenly soaking wet, having been hit by ocean spray mere moments before. Her hands slipped and so did her footing and the next thing she knew, she was scrabbling at thin air and falling backwards towards the deck. Kelsea squeaked in dismay and closed her eyes, hearing the shocked intake of breath coming from below her.

Not having seen any of this happening, due to his infinite interest in the well-being of his tri-corne, Jack was just as surprised (if not more surprised) as the other two parties. As it was, he quickly glanced upwards and assessed the situation: the whelp was plummeting towards certain extensive injury or death, and Gibbs was standing there with his hands over his mouth doing absolutely nothing about it. Clearly _he_ would not be saving her, then? Without having the time to think about his actions, Captain Jack Sparrow sprang forwards with a few surprisingly non-drunken steps and stretched out both arms.

"OOOMPH—!" All of the air rushed from two pairs of lungs as Jack managed to maneuver himself right beneath her in the nick of time. A meaty thud/crash heralded the abrupt meeting of the captain's chest with the girl and his back with the deck. All noise and activity seemed to stop, except for Gibbs who was galvanized into action. He ran over to where the two lay, his eyes wide.

"Kelsea—! Cap'n Jack—!" he managed to say, kneeling beside them as the rest of the crew ran to see what the commotion was.

Jack was the first to make any sort of movement or sound, opening his eyes and groaning loudly. "Bloody hell…" He grunted, his body throbbing incessantly. Worse though, was his left elbow, and as he thought to move it a yelp of pain tore from his mouth.

At the sharp sound, Kelsea also regained her wits and whimpered softly. She felt like she had been crushed by a loose cannon, all of the air gone from her small body. She made a few empty gasping noises before finally sucking in a mouthful of air and beginning to cough.

Captain Jack Sparrow knew his arm was most likely broken, and he was not thrilled about it. He used his good arm to lever himself to a more upright position, noticing new pain as he did so. At the same time he could not help but re-notice the girl who was clinging to his chest as hacking coughs racked her slight frame. The crew took in this very same sight with bated breath, the estranged father and daughter laying on the deck of the _Black Pearl_. Finally, Jack spoke.

"Are ye bad hurt, girl?" he enquired through gritted teeth.

Kelsea realized the situation and immediately coaxed her shaking limbs into pulling herself off of the pirate captain. "N-no Captain…" She could not bring herself to look him in the face… badly embarrassed and shaken by what had happened, and very confused as to why he had put himself on the line to save her.

"Good. Gibbs, see t'the whelp. I'll… I'll be in me cabin."

Gibbs wordlessly nodded his head and scurried forward to Kelsea's side whilst the others looked on mutely. Jack hauled himself stoically to his feet and, holding his arm with a grimace, limped through the parting crew towards his quarters.

Despite Gibbs's direction not to, Kelsea sat up and and reached for something forgotten on the deck. She gingerly lifted the smashed tri-corne into her lap and then glanced up at the receding back of the strange man who had just saved her life. She just couldn't understand it— The man didn't even like _looking_ at her, let alone throwing himself in between her and the wooden planks of the deck!

Incidentally, Captain Jack Sparrow was wondering the very same thing through the haze of pain. What the blazes had prompted him into such a daft and heroic act? He didn't _care_ for the whelp, after all… Or did he?


	6. Band Aids for Jack

Joshamee Gibbs stood nervously outside Jack Sparrow's quarters, trying to gather the nerve to knock on the door. It wasn't that he was afraid of the captain per say… More that the man was bloody unpredictable. Who was to say how he was reacting to the afternoon's events? Somehow Gibbs assumed that being fallen on by a small girl (whom the captain disliked anyhow) from a drastic height and then crashing into the deck with said child on top of him might be reason enough for Captain Jack to be a bit… vexed, to say the least.

The good news was that Kelsea, the girl who had done the falling, was now safe in the crew's quarters. She had sustained the standard bruising that could only be expected from plummeting to the deck from twenty feet above, but other than that and obviously having been rattled, the girl seemed alright.

Gibbs raised a fist tentatively, this time resolved to knock--

"BLOODYHELLMOTHERUV--!" Came a sudden violent string of curses from within that made the first mate jump. Pushed into acting, he opened the door and quickly sidled inside.

The sight that met his eyes would have been comical under any other circumstances, but as things were, the crewman decided it wiser not to laugh. The source of the cursing was the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow, who was at present looking rather ridiculous-- he appeared to have gotten tangled in his coat. Breathing raggedly, the pirate captain looked up at his first mate with a scowl.

"A knock woulda been nice, Gibbs…" he grated, his face glistening with sweat and screwed up with pain. The first mate scurried across the room to his captain's side.

"Apologies, Cap'n… Heard ye cursin' an' thought it best t'come sharpish." He peered over into Jack's pained features and cocked his head in question. "What is it that be ailin' ye?"

"Well, Mr. Gibbs, lessee here… Seems t'me that moments ago as I stood upon the deck o' me ship one small whelp decided t'come flyin' down from aloft an' land on top o' me. Could be th'problem, eh?" the pirate captain all but snarled, sarcasm fairly dripping from his taut voice.

Gibbs bit his lip in agitation and reached over, readjusting the other man's coat so that he was no longer tangled up. "… Don' be angry wit th'lass, Cap'n… T'was an accident, after all…" He tried, earning only an exasperated glance.

"I don' care a lick 'bout th'girl righ' now, Gibbs! Jus' help me wiv this bloody coat, will ye?" Jack writhed and twisted, his injured arm only getting wrenched around into more agonizing positions. "It's… S'me arm…"

Cursing himself for not noticing the injury earlier, the first mate stepped to his captain's aid. "How bad hurt, Cap'n?" he asked, getting ahold of the troublesome fabic and placing one hand on Jack's shoulder to help guide him out of the coat.

By now breathing heavily, Jack Sparrow gritted his teeth as he came free. "Broken," he mumbled dully, reaching with his good hand for a bottle of rum lying on the desk. "Can't move me fingers properly. Savvy?" he added after catching the questioning look on his crewman's features.

Gibbs swallowed hard before leading the captain towards a chair and pushing him into it. "Er, well if'n that's th'case… We'll have t'put it righ' before ye catch fever," He pulled out a small knife and cut a slit in Jack's sleeve, tearing the fabric to the elbow. The sight that met him made his stomach heave: near the middle the arm was bent around funny and worse… two white slivers of bone were poking through the tan skin. "Mother o' god…" he murmured uneasily.

Jack, who had been averting his eyes, chanced a glance around at his left arm. Catching sight of the injury, he quickly squinched his eyes shut and tried to quiet the butterflies of irrational panic in his gut. "F'yer plannin' on fixin' that… safe t'say that ol' Jack's goin' t'be needin' more rum," he managed finally, gauging that the bottle in his hand was only about half full.

Gibbs laughed nervously and nodded, steeling his own nerves. He busied himself with finding a basin for water and clean white cloth. "Aye, Jack, I'll send Cotton after another keg 'er so."

* * *

**2 HOURS LATER…**

"There y'go Cap'n… Just don' be wavin' that arm about now, hear?" Gibbs grunted as he tied off the last strip of sailcloth around the pirate captain's left arm.

Captain Jack Sparrow merely hiccupped, his head falling forward. Empty bottles that had once been full of amber rum now rolled to and fro across the cabin floor. Yes, it would be safe to say that the dreadlocked pirate was drunk out of his skull. "Mmm… That'll be… _-hic-_ attlebee all… Gibbs…" he slurred, beginning to tip out of his chair.

The first mate lunged over just in the nick of time and caught the other man around the shoulders before he toppled to the floor. "Avast! Oof—up ye come, Jack Sparrow," he mumbled, hauling his friend and captain to a nearly standing position and lugging him over towards the disheveled bed. "Mother's love—yer a lot heavier than y'look..!"

Jack slumped unceremoniously into the bunk with another hiccup and docilely allowed the other man to pull off his boots and arrange his limbs so that he wasn't about to roll onto his injured arm. "Mmm… Easy on th'goods, darling…" he murmured and Gibbs rolled his eyes, backing away from the bed.

"Sleep now, Cap… While ye can."

* * *

**SOMETIME AFTER THAT…**

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!_

Roused roughly from his fitful rum-induced slumber, Jack Sparrow bolted upright at the abrupt sound… and immediately collapsed back on the sheets.

"Ughh--!" He groaned loudly. His head was foggy and dully aching from his previous drinking binge, but that was nothing compared to the terrible pains that shot up his left arm with every heartbeat. "Fer th'love of—"

He was cut off as the knocking came again, this time a bit softer. Captain Jack groaned again and, despite his hangover, began casting about for more rum—anything to dull the pain in his arm. More knocking.

"Stop that bloody knocking an' jus' c'min ye—" He didn't finish his cursing because at that point the door swung tentatively inwards. "Which of ye slack-jawed seadogs is it?" He demanded, shielding his eyes against the light that came in.

"'Tis only me, Cap'n Sparrow… I brought back yer hat…" Nine-year-old Kelsea stayed where she was in the door, holding out the tri-cornered hat as a peace offering.

"What? Jus'get in here an' stop lettin' in all the bloody daylight!"

The girl sidled in quickly and shut the door, staying where she was while her eyes adjusted to the dim light. After a few moments, she was able to make out the shape of the desk, the rum bottles littering the floor, and finally the form of Captain Jack Sparrow sprawled across the bed against the wall. Seemingly an eternity later, he seemed to remember that she was there and half sat up.

"…S'that you, whelp?" He finally asked, and she moved a few steps closer, wringing the hat in her hands.

"Aye, Cap'n."

"Come t'fall on me again, then?"

"N-no Captain Sparrow…"

"Well? What're ye disturbin' me for?"

"I… I jus' came t'bring back yer hat…" She held out the somewhat battered tri-corne and swallowed hard. "And… An' t'say thank you fer savin' me life..."

Jack only grunted and sat up straighter, and since his eyes were already well-adjusted to the lighting, he began truly looking at the girl for what seemed like the first time. At nine-years-old, Kelsea (_Sparrow_, his mind added) was slightly built with lithe muscles. Her skin was tanned golden brown from constant exposure to the bright Caribbean sunlight and her hair was raven dark, tied back with a strip of sail. She wore a pair of stiff canvas pants and a faded blue shirt that was crudely hemmed so that it fit her… and although her body language was humble and subservient, her chocolate eyes stared proudly back at him.

_Defiant liddle lass,_ he thought briefly before clearing his throat and holding out a hand for the hat. "I only did it fer th'_Pearl's_ sake, girl…" he returned, and though she nodded, Kelsea had a look on her face that bespoke of the fact that she didn't believe his words any more than he himself did.

She slowly walked over to where he sat and handed over the captain's prized belonging. He took it but didn't immediately put it back on, instead scrutinizing her further. After a few eternal moments, he spoke again with a wince.

"Ye wouldn' happen t'have any more rum..?" He asked hopefully, and she was already holding out a half-full bottle before he had finished his sentence. "Oh. Er—Thanks," He mumbled and she nodded wordlessly again.

Jack Sparrow sighed, looking away. _Brave girl indeed, havin' the guts t'come an' confront me like this… Maybe I shouldn' be so hard on her. Not th'whelp's fault she ended up here, after all…_However, just as he was about to say something more, there was a deafening bang and the _Black Pearl_ shuddered mightily, throwing the pair of them back onto the bed. Then came the sound of Gibbs's voice, high and panicked.

"ON DECK ALL HANDS—WE'RE UNDER ATTAAAACK!"


	7. Sea Turtles, Not Dolphins

First and foremost, I'm sorry for the delay. I was visiting a friend out of state for the past five days, and actually went through the trouble of sneaking to the computer at three in the morning so I could quickly bang out a chapter and get it up for all of you to read. I do hope you appreciate the mission-impossible-esque measures taken to appease you, the readers. Second of all, it is not in _this _chapter, but in the next I am bound to do something that will cause at least a few of you to hate my slimy guts. Apologies and no hard feelings to those of you who will inevitably feel that way, it is the only way I see fit to continue the story. That being said, enjoy this chapter and the next will probably be up within the next 24 hours. Thanks for the comments-- Cheers!

...TanzFieber

Kelsea was the first to react, disentangling herself from the pirate captain and scrambling to her feet. The _Pearl_ shook again, sending the nine-year-old to the floor.

"Cap'n Sparrow—!" she squeaked questioningly from her position towards the end of the bed when he had yet to move. However, he dispelled those fears by rocketing upright.

"Bloody hell!" Jack yelled, wiping at his rum-splashed face. "What in th'name o'—?" He was cut off as Gibbs burst through the door.

"Cap'n, we're under attack!" he shouted as the pirate captain tried to regain his feet in all of the confusion.

"I _know_ that, Gibbs!" Another shudder ran through the timbers and this time the cracking of wood could be heard. "I'm not bloody _stupid_! WHO is attacking us!"

"Don' know, she ain't flyin' any colors! What're yer orders, Cap'n?"

From out on the deck, screams and crashes filled the air as the _Black Pearl_ was raked with gun and cannon fire. Perhaps it was the sounds of his beloved ship taking damage, for suddenly Jack Sparrow straightened up and became every inch the fearsome pirate captain that Kelsea had heard about. Seemingly ignoring his injuries, he purposefully strode out onto the deck and began shouting orders.

"Get yer wits about ye an' jump to, ye gutless rabble! Run out the long guns! Man the cannons an' prepare t'engage! I WANT _MOVEMENT_!"

And it was movement he got— the previously scattered crew became instantly unified at their captain's call, every man rushing to his station with grim purpose. Also spurred on by Sparrow's words, Kelsea regained her feet and sprinted for the rigging. Just as she grabbed the ratlines however, rough hands grabbed her around the waist and hauled her back.

"Git back t'the crew's quarters!" shouted Mr. Gibbs to his young charge, knocking her flat as another cannonball whistled overhead and connected with the _Pearl's_ far railing.

"Mr. Gibbs, I've got t'get to me post!" the girl struggled in the first mate's grip but he held her fast. Pulling her closer to his face, the man reiterated his previous command.

"This ain't no place fer a lass, Kelsea— back t'the cabin an' that's an order!"

Close enough to see the hard look in the elder man's normally friendly eyes, the dark-haired girl swallowed hard and nodded shakily. He loosened his hold on her and with one more sharp glance, left her to herself while he climbed to the forecastle.

Meanwhile, Captain Jack Sparrow stood at the helm taking in the direness of the situation. He swept his eyes over the nameless crewmen of the attacking ship, which by this time was close enough for him to see their murderous glares. Weapons bristled everywhere, blades glinting in the bright sunlight. Turning to Gibbs, who was by now at his side, Jack spoke in a lower tone.

"Have a distinctly hostile look to 'em, don' they?"

"Aye, don' s'pose they're here for a spot o' tea, Cap'n…"

"I thought not." Jack visibly winced as his beloved _Pearl_ took another direct hit and he scowled at the opposite vessel. "STOP BLOWIN' HOLES IN MY SHIP!" he shouted angrily at no one in particular, waving his good arm around in agitation.

"Wouldn' worry 'bout it s'much, Sparrow… T'will only be _your_ ship fer a few moments longer!"

"_Captain— Captain_ Sparrow!" Jack shouted automatically before locating the owner of that mocking voice. His kohl-lined eyes widened in surprise before immediately narrowing again as they fell upon the speaker. "Tweak—? Yer s'posed t'be dead!"

The familiar scoundrel in question only grinned, revealing a set of very yellow teeth. "That would be _Captain_ Tweak now, as fortune would have it, an' I see that ye remember me. Captured by Norrington, thanks t'you, Jack, jus' outside that blasted cave on th'_Ile de Muerta_! Captured, aye, but escaped and found meself the _Sea Serpent_ an' a right villainous crew o' miscreants…" he spread his arms wide, indicating the unsavory men to either side who guffawed appreciatively. "Allus hoped I'd run into th'likes o' you again, Sparrow… So I could send you an' that barnacle bucket t'the locker where ye belong!"

Jack glared and ground his teeth as his hand strayed to the sword at his side. "You slimy git! Yer not fit t'scrub th'decks o' me _Pearl_, ye stupid mangy cad!"

Stung by the insult, the grin immediately disappeared from Tweak's face. "Ye'll pay fer that remark, _Captain_ Jack Sparrow…" He spat before turning to his men. "Prepare t'board an' slaughter 'em like dogs!"

Gibbs put a hand on his captain's shoulder as the pair watched the other crew wave pistols and ready boathooks. "Think maybe ye made 'em mad, Cap'n."

Jack smiled grimly, gold teeth flashing. "Perhaps t'was something I said." He turned from the railing and looked down at his men who gazed back nervously, awaiting commands. "Cheer up, gents," he called calmly. "M'sure they can't _smell_ as bad as they _look._"

And like magic, at this casual wisecrack the tense mood suddenly lifted and the crew of the _Black Pearl_stood taller— the captain had never let them down before.

"Oh, an' mates?" Jack Sparrow turned back to face the _Serpent_ with a devilish grin. "Draw yer weapons."

"_ATTAAAACK! SEND 'EM ALL T'DAVY JONES!"_ The cry from the _Sea Serpent_ went up and her crew roared, clambering across planks towards the waiting _Pearl_.

"_GIVE 'EM HELL, BUCKOES! CHAAAARGE!_" countered Gibbs, and both he and the captain drew their own swords as the strangled shouts of their men filled the air in response.

The entire ocean seemed to hold its breath for a single moment before a mighty crash heralded the meeting of the adversaries at the railings of the _Black Pearl._ The air was rent with the sounds of blades clashing and pirates shouting and death veritably boiled across the oaken decks as members of each crew fell transfixed by all manner of gruesome weapons.

Up on the fo'csle, Gibbs was locked in a cutlass duel with a one-eyed pirate and the injured Jack found himself having to fight for his life against Tweak. With a grunt the first mate of the _Pearl_ dispatched his opponent and dropped to one knee, breathing heavily.

"Cap'n, on yer left!" he yelped suddenly, and Jack glanced over just in time to duck a would-be killing blow from another of Tweak's men. He slew the newcomer with an upward stroke, but groaned in dismay as the momentum of the other man wrenched his sword from his grasp.

The captain of the _Sea Serpent _cackled harshly at the plight of the other and advanced sword-point first. "Harhar, let's see ye try an' weasel yer way outta this one, eh Sparrow? Don' see no helpful dolphins hereabouts!"

Jack swallowed hard and retreated slowly, glaring defiantly at his tormentor nonetheless. Suddenly, however, his attitude seemed to change and he sniffed disdainfully with a roll of his eyes. "_Sea turtles_, mate, not _dolphins_. F'yer goin' t'be tellin' me stories I won' have ye getting' 'em wrong!"

The smile left Tweak's features to be replaced by a scowl. By now he had backed the other man into a corner and he pressed the tip of his sword to Jack's throat with an evil laugh. "Those tales don' matter no more, Sparrow—Tell 'em t'the devil I'm sendin' yer to!" And he swung his blade high as Jack squinched his eyes shut, bracing himself for death.

* * *

A/N: The newest addition to the story, Tweak, is meant to be recognized as a pirate from the first POTC who had a minor role. For clarity and for those of you who care, he is the pirate who comes crashing down the stairs whilst Jack Sparrow is imprisoned in Port Royal. He very intelligently says something along the lines of: "This ain't the armory!" I think he wears a blue bandanna or something, and he is _not _the Jamaican pirate with the dreadlocks (who gets killed by Norrington at the end), he's the other one. Hope that cleared things up! Comment if it pleases you! 


	8. This Shot Wasn't Meant for You

And so we comes to this-- the chapter that will probably cause you to turn on me. It was a difficult decision to make, I'll have you know, but I did what I felt had to be done. Enough of my jabbering, I'm sure you wish to know what abominable act I have commited, so read on!

...TanzFieber

Eyes tightly pinched shut, Captain Jack Sparrow said a silent goodbye to his ship and the ocean, his two loves. _Well, at least I'm aboard me 'Pearl' out on th'seas_... he thought fleetingly, hearing the sound of what he assumed to be a blade whistling through the air towards him. However, the blow he was expecting never came– Instead, a loud grunt and the sound of a body crumpling to the deck reached his ears. After a few moments of holding his breath and squinching his eyes shut so tightly that he began to see fireworks against the backs of his eyelids, Jack finally peeked at the world and was thoroughly astounded at the scene that met his eyes.

The pirate Twigg was lying in a heap on the deck, obviously unconscious and standing over his prone body was... Kelsea (_Sparrow_). She was visibly shaking, but the look in her eyes was death personified as she brandished one broken mop handle like a sword. Her thin shoulders heaved with shaky breaths as she looked at the man she had just struck down. A scowl suddenly overtook her features, and she kicked at his prone form viciously. She vented her frustrations on the unconscious man, before finally tripping over herself and falling over the body. Jack Sparrow reached out and caught her automatically, setting her back on her feet with Twigg no longer between them.

Father and daughter stared at one another in silence, each taking each other in. Jack simply could not believe what he was witnessing– the _whelp_ had saved _his_ –_the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow's_– life?

Once again, Kelsea was having similar thoughts.The truth was, she had been trying to make her way to the crew's quarters as Mr. Gibbs had ordered, but simply couldn't for the battle raging across the decks. _Th'next best thing_, she had decided,_ would be t'get outta th'bloody way!_ So she had resumed climbing up the ratlines, figuring that at least aloft no man would be able to come at her from behind...

**BRIEF FLASHBACK**

* * *

She hung suspended there, feet entwined in the rigging, watching the bloody combat with horrified fascination. The dark-haired young girl held her breath, unable to look away from the sight of old friends falling and enemies dying. Frozen she was, at least until she heard that shout –Gibbs's voice calling for Captain Sparrow to look out– And suddenly she was scrambling across the ropes towards the fo'csle in what could described as a blind panic... having no idea what she was going to do when she got there, but needing to get there all the same. 

As she clambered towards the three men at the head of the _Pearl_, she watched as her captain lost his weapon and was backed into a corner... but then she was there. Dropping lithely to the deck and, finding herself confronted by the unaware back of the adversary Twigg, Kelsea's hand instinctively went to the beat-up mop handle that she always seemed to have thrust into her rope belt. _Once! Twice! _she lashed out as hard as she could, catching the man across the back of the skull... and he slumped down unconscious... and there was Captain Sparrow with his eyes shut...

**

* * *

BACK TO PRESENT**

They were staring at one another– the captain and the whelp. The battle still raged down on the main deck, shouts still filled the afternoon, Twigg still lay in a heap at their feet, and yet the pair remained quiet. Finally, it was Jack Sparrow who cleared his throat and spoke in an almost hoarse voice.

"You... Ye saved–" he began brokenly, but Kelsea also seemed to snap to and spoke sharply before he could finish.

"Ye saved me life, I saved yers– we're square!" she stated resolutely, the hard look returning to her eyes. Jack contemplated these words and her young face, so determined in the face of such circumstances. He took in her dark flashing eyes, the way her chin stuck out defiantly, the way she was still brandishing that broken mop...

"I don'–" the captain of the _Black Pearl_ started to protest, but was once again cut off. This time, however, it was not Kelsea who did the interrupting.

"_This'll teach ye t'hit a man unawares, ye liddle brat!" _Whilst the two had been talking they failed to pay attention to the fallen Twigg, and now he had half-risen and was pointing a pistol at the girl's unprotected back. The world seemed to freeze, the click of the hammer echoing infinitely, the knowledge that neither Jack nor the child would be able to prevent the point-blank shot... And then the gun went off.

"LASS, GIT DOWN!" Another shout, a flash of movement, the crack of a pistol, a puff of smoke, a grunt of pain. Kelsea felt the air whoosh from her lungs as she hit the deck, things momentarily going fuzzy–

"GIBBS! NOOOO!" Captain Jack Sparrow whipped out his own pistol and discharged a ball into the chest of his enemy, but did not wait to see the effect. Instead he dropped heavily to his knees, all of his attention on the man lying before him in a growing pool of crimson.

Joshamee Gibbs, first mate of the _Black Pearl_, moaned and tried to roll over. Blood flowered across his none-too-clean shirt from the ragged bullet hole in his chest, and the man coughed raggedly before speaking in a gasping voice. "Kelsea..."

The nine-year-old crawled over to her long time companion, not believing her eyes. "Mr. G-gibbs..." she whimpered, tears choking her and running down her young face. "N-no..."

Gibbs only smiled feebly and lifted a shaking hand to the girl's face, attempting to wipe away her tears. "Come now, missie," he whispered. "Be brave like I know ye are, an' listen t'ol Mr. Gibbs... There's somethin' ye need t'know..." The girl nodded unsurely, grasping the old man's hand and gazing upon his kindly features. "I always tried ter raise ye as best I could an' I'm proud o' 'ye, lass– yer a damned good pirate. B-but..." He faltered and gasped for breath here before continuing in a decidedly weaker tone. "But I always told ye tha' ye didn' have no parents, an' tha's not true, Kelsea Sparrow."

The raven-haired little girl froze, and so did Jack, who had been trying to stem the flow of blood from his comrades chest.

"Wh-what?" she squeaked, sure she had misheard him, or that he was becoming delirious. _Surely he didn' mean t'call me... Sparrow...?_

However, Gibbs only nodded and smiled a distinctly grimaced smile. "Tha's right, lass... Th'man t'yer right, Captain Jack Sparrow... He's.. H-he's yer father. Aye, yer father an' yer jus' like him, lass..."

He coughed violently again, this time a fine mist of red spraying from his mouth. Kelsea clutched at him tighter, which seemed to bring him back for a moment, his eyes now traveling to settle on the captain.

"Cap'n Jack..." he wheezed, and Jack bent closer... silent kohl-darkened tears running down his own features.

"Aye, mate... Right 'ere..."

"J-Jack Sparrow-w... Always tried t'do right by ye, Cap'n... Always tried t'follow yer orders... B-but now..." he closed his eyes for a moment and struggled to breath, the puddle beneath him growing larger and reddening the deck beneath the trio. "But now I ask ye fer somethin'."

"Name it."

"Promise me... P-promise ye'll take care o' th'girl. Know ye never took much to 'er, but she's a... a good lass an'... an' she needs ye... take care o' her..." By now the first mate's voice had become so weak that both of the others had to be within inches to hear. His face screwed up with emotion, the dread-locked pirate captain grasped his longtime shipmate's free hand tightly and nodded.

"Swear it on th'_Pearl_ an' on me life, mate." he choked.

Joshamee Gibbs's slack friendly old features formed one more tired smile and he faintly gave both of his companion's hands a squeeze... before his kindly gray eyes drifted shut for the last time and his breathing ceased with one last sigh.

* * *

A/N: So there you have it-- the hardest decision I have had to make thus far. Hate me? Admire me for making the choice? The fun part is that you can totally flame this chapter if you want to. Happy hate-mailing!  



	9. Comfort for Two

Well, if you are reading this then thanks for not hating me. I know, Gibbs's death hurt me just as bad. However, the show must go on! The author's note for this chapter is only that the longer chunks of italicized text indicate flashes of the day. You'll get it as you read.

...TanzFieber

The rest of the day had passed in a haze for all involved. Seeing as how Jack had managed to put a bullet directly into the heart of Twigg, the battle had ended with the crew of the _Black Pearl_ the victors. The men of the _Sea Serpent _immediately threw down their weapons at their captain's death, and this would usually signal a rousing cheer from the victorious crew. However, at the end of this particular skirmish the decks were strangely silent. Word had spread like wildfire of what had occurred up on the forecastle whilst chaos reigned the decks, and any 'hurrah' that might have been was quickly stifled.

_Marty the dwarf crawled out from behind a broken spar, a triumphant grin on his face, when he was nearly knocked flat by Jack Sparrow. The captain swept past, an unreadable expression on his normally relaxed face, and Marty wrinkled his brow in question. "Wot be th'matter wiv 'im?" he asked Duncan, another crewman._

"_...Gibbs..." was the only thing the other pirate would say, his shoulders sagging dejectedly._

"_Y'mean th'captain be worried? Bad wounded, is 'e?"_

"_Dead."_

That was how the rest of the day went: in a haze. There were the usual after-battle tasks to be performed, of course– the scouring of bloodstained decks, the checking of the hull for leaks, the clearing of breakage, and locking up the opposing survivors– but all of these things seemed futile. The other thing was sewing up fallen comrades in the traditional sail cloth coffins. There was one body, however, that nobody had been allowed near except for two.

_Jack Sparrow rolled the still body of his longtime shipmate onto the clean white canvas with a grunt. His mouth was set in a hard line and his brow furrowed intensely as he went about his work, flipping the edge of the sheet over and beginning to sew the entire entity shut with furious energy. Kelsea Sparrow sat by, dry-eyed and blank-faced. Her hand still clutched the now cold one of the shell that had previously been her surrogate father..._

The day had passed in a haze, and by now night had fallen. Few words had passed between the newly christened father and daughter, and even fewer glances. Each was coping with the situation as best they could... and neither was having an easy time of it. After an afternoon of stifling silence, Captain Jack had finally mumbled something about how the child must be hungry, she should go eat.

_Hearing a shaky sigh, Jack looked over at the girl on his left for the first time in a few hours. She was staring off at the gray horizon, her eyes vacant. He wanted to say something –anything– to her, but no words were forthcoming. Finally, he reached out and touched her shoulder. "Lass..."_

_Kelsea jumped as if his light touch had been a heavy blow. She glanced up and, eyes flickering dimly with recognition, raised an eyebrow._

"_Er... I've noticed ye haven' eaten all day..."_

So bloody what!_ Her dark eyes seemed to scream, but no response came from her lips. Jack quailed under the pained gaze and dropped his own to his lap._

"_Jus' that... Well. Think it's best that ye head t'the galley." _

_The nine-year-old seemed to ponder this awkward proposition before finally just nodding. She got to her feet and slowly made her way towards the ship's kitchen, ignoring the feeling of Jack Sparrow's eyes upon her back. _

Now Kelsea was in Gibbs' former cabin (the adjacent to the captain's quarters), and Jack was in his. The pirate captain of the _Black Pearl_ had retired early, leaving the rest of the crew to look after his ship without really giving any orders. If his day-long silence hadn't been clue enough that Jack Sparrow was badly shaken by the death of his first mate, his sudden lapse in caring about the well being of his beloved_ Pearl_ certainly was. He had paced, drank all of his rum and even smashed a few chairs completely to smithereens... but nothing seemed to make him feel better. There was an aching hole in his stomach, and no amount of amber alcohol could fill it up.

_Why was Gibbs gone? Why hadn't he, the infallible Captain Jack Sparrow, been able to save him?_ _Why..? _Jack Sparrow was a vacant, defeated shadow of his usual self as troubled sleep finally found him that night.

* * *

"NOOOO! NO, STOP– PLEASE NO–!" 

Jack awoke with a start and immediately toppled backwards out of his chair where he had been dozing fitfully. "What the bloody–?" He grunted, the first thing hitting him being pain in the broken arm he had just re-fallen on. "Motheruv–!" However, the next thing that came back to him was the exact reason he had been asleep in a chair... The battle... Gibbs...

"NOOO! SOMEBODY HELP ME–! PLEASE–!"

The pleading shouts came again, and cut off Jack's thought process. Rubbing the back of his head and gingerly cradling his arm against his body, the pirate sat up, cocking his ear to the noise that had awakened him. Softer sounds came to him again, and he decided that they were... _whimpers_? Not only that, but they were coming from the room next to his own–

Jack rose to his feet and scrubbed a hand across his haggard face as he made his way to the door. He tugged it open and crept across the hallway to a different portal where he stopped and pressed his ear to the timbers. More stifled cries, definitely coming from within. Instinctively, the captain cautiously raised a hand and pushed the door open. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dimmer light, but eventually he could make out a desk and chair in the small room, and over in the corner a bed. It was the contents of that bunk, however, that made everything else superfluous.

Little Kelsea Sparrow was tangled up in the blankets making pitiful noises whilst tossing, and it was only after a moment that Jack realized that she was actually asleep– obviously having some sort of dreadful nightmare. She called out for help again, whimpering and pleading, and before he knew what he was doing, he had crossed the room and was standing over her.

"N-no... I c-can't... Please d-don't..." the child cried out to someone only she was seeing in her dreams, and the sight of her small body quaking with sobs caused something to give inside the pirate captain's heart. Slowly, tentatively, he reached out a calloused hand and touched her forehead.

"Shhhh..." he whispered, and soft as his voice was, the young girl immediately awoke at the sound and at the touch. The nine-year-old started awake and her eyes shot open, but apparently she couldn't see very well in the dark yet either. She felt the hand, however, and grabbed it desperately.

"M-mr. Gibbs..?"

Jack's heart broke just a little bit more and tears pricked at the backs of his eyes for the first time since he'd been listening to his first mate's last words that afternoon. With a shaky sigh, he shook his head before answering in a quavering whisper.

"No, lass... Tis jus' ol' Jack..."

She said nothing for a moment, as if taking the moment to remember just as he had... and then a new sound reached the captain's ears– the sound of none-too-well-stifled sobs. Kelsea's hand slid out of his own as she wrapped her arms around herself and there, in the dark, finally gave in to the tears that had been building up all day.

Jack Sparrow was beside himself. He stood awkwardly at the bedside, not knowing what to do as the girl was racked by sobs... but then he was crouched down, shushing her and stroking her hair.Feeling her clutch desperately at the hem of his untucked shirt, Jack kneeled down by the head of the bunk and lay his hand on the girl's. She grabbed it tight and whimpered pitifully.

"Shhh... Lass, s'alright... Everythin's gonna be okay..." he soothed nonsensically, whispering into her dark curls. "Okay, Luv... Shhhhh..." Jack closed his eyes and continued to murmur softly to the child who held on to him so tight... this brave little girl... his daughter–

And in that moment, for the first time in a long time, his reputation as a pirate ceased to matter. He no longer cared that these gestures made him soft, or what the crew would think if they found out. In that moment, all that mattered to Captain Jack Sparrow was comforting this small girl who needed him so badly... and finally letting himself find solace in the same act.


	10. Thoughts the Morning After

_Sunshine filtered lazily in through the small porthole, throwing dancing oceanic reflections across the planked floor. Also newly illuminated in the corner of the room, two slumbering forms in a somewhat ridiculous arrangement– the small bed held one raven-haired little girl and the floor close-by was taken up by one dread-locked pirate. _

Jack Sparrow still knelt on the floor, the top half of his body sprawled across the bunk. His breathing was easy and even, mouth open, eyes closed. One bandaged arm lay on the pillow and the other was draped across the sleeping form of a child... his bejeweled hand clutched in a smaller one.

The owner of said small hand also slumbered, her tear-streaked face relaxed at long last. Kelsea Sparrow shifted in her sleep and tightened her grip, curling closer to the warm body next to her own...

"Mmph..." a muffled groan found it's way from his dry lips and Jack closed his eyes tighter against the light that was threatening to pull him into full wakefulness. He yawned and attempted to scratch his shoulder, but found that his hand was being held hostage by some unknown entity..?

_Wait... Wha-?_ Kohl-lined eyes fluttered open in confusion, immediately squinting against the morning sun. Jack stared blankly at the unfamiliar wall for a moment, before the realization that he wasn't in his own cabin sunk into his sleep-clouded mind. _So if he wasn't in his room... where WAS he–?_ Deciding blearily that there was only one way to find out, the pirate captain let his eyes travel over his surroundings.

_Wall... Desk... Chair... End of a bed... Small foot..? _He jerked in surprise and straightened quickly, picking his torso up off of the bunk... and immediately regretting that action. His head ached dully, as did his arm, and his knees were absolutely _killing_ him from half-holding him up all night long on the cold hard floor. The pirate groaned aloud and mentally wished for someone to just shoot him. Meanwhile, the other body stirred.

Sensing the movement next to herself, Kelsea slowly came into consciousness. Rolling onto her back to stretch, the young girl yawned and let her own dark eyes drift lazily open. Oddly enough, the first thing that came into focus was her hand that should have been empty, but wasn't. Mild confusion set in as she stared at those somewhat grubby ringed fingers, letting her gaze travel slowly up the arm that was attached to said digits where it eventually settled on the bemused features of– _Captain Jack Sparrow–?_

And so another few heavy moments of staring commenced as the gaze of father and daughter locked. This staring thing, it seemed to be all they ever did anymore, but neither of the Sparrows could string together a proper sentence. Finally, the stillness was broken as Kelsea shot up in bed.

"C-captain Sparrow–! I... You... What're... I'm sorry–?" she stuttered, apologizing only because the situation seemed to call for it. _What the bloody hell was HE doing there? _But then the dryness of her eyes registered. Along with the tightness of her face. Along with the position they were in... and the previous twenty-four hours came back to her. _Gibbs was dead and he wasn't coming back and she had been having nightmares and woken up the captain and now..._

Jerking himself from his own stupor, Jack shook his head and snorted. Sure, comforting the girl had seemed like a good idea in the darkness of nighttime, but now it seemed a daft idea. _What would the crew think if they caught him in here holding hands with the whelp-?_ Uneasy about the whole prospect, the pirate cleared his throat and quickly disengaged the girl's fingers from his own.

Rising to his feet painfully, Jack Sparrow turned and hobbled towards the door without saying a word. Kelsea watched him go, the man who was supposedly her father, with a million questions buzzing through her mind. _Was this stoic and strange man really her father? Why had he come in during the night? Why wouldn't he say anything now? _and most importantly... _Why did Mr. Gibbs have to die and leave her alone with the distant Jack Sparrow..?_

**

* * *

INSIGHT TO JACK SPARROW**

Captain Jack stumbled out of that cabin with aching knees and a whirling mind. He hadn't known exactly what was going on within that room, so he had done the only self-preserving thing he could think of: he ran. Now, alone within his own quarters, he sat down on the bed and covered his eyes with his good hand. He needed to think.

The whelp, Kelsea... well, the fact of the matter was that she was his daughter. He had known that bit of information all along, of course, but it had always been easier to just leave her to Gibbs and call it a day– but now the only man who knew how to deal with the child was gone, and he, Captain Jack Sparrow, had sworn to take care of her.

_What was he going to do?_ _He wasn't the nurturing father type like Gibbs– he was a pirate, a bloody scallywag–! _Jack sighed loudly and scrubbed a hand across his face. _He knew how to handle women, sure, but all of those whom he had previously dealt with had been romantic pursuits and... well, none of them had been nine years old!_ _Slaps were something he could handle, tears were not. He could deal with late-night rendezvouses, but never before had he dealt with one that involved nightmares. No matter, though _–he knew– _He had given his word to his dying friend that he would look after the girl, and that was what he intended to do_...

That being sorted out, the pirate captain studied the boards in his floor with apparent intensity. The only question left to answer was one that involved something he knew less about than pre-pubescent women– his own feelings. _Jack Sparrow didn't care much for feelings, bloody despised them in fact. As far as he could see, they weren't useful and only got in the way of making rational, selfish decisions. Yes, his thoughts on personal feelings were right up there with his thoughts on bathing– both a complete waste of time. However, knowing this in his mind and trying to STOP the things from screwing up his selfish plans were completely different stories. _His chocolate gaze wandered vacantly over the pieces of broken chair that still littered his floor as he finally began to contemplate all of the emotions that made his stomach churn.

_The truth of the matter... Well, if he was completely honest with himself (as he so hated to be), Jack Sparrow would have to admit that he cared for the little girl named Kelsea. Ugh, even thinking it made him uneasy for he was unused to having feelings of attachment to anything other than his ship! There was really no denying it though– It was inherent in the feeling of fierce pride that surged through him when he watched the girl out-duel, out-climb and out-pirate even some of the veterans of the crew; inherent in the longing to join in her childish games when she was teaching them to the others; inherent in the irrational surge of worry that tightened his throat if he saw her foot slip as she scaled the mast... Yes, as sure as the _Black Pearl_ was his ship, Kelsea was his daughter, and he... he cared for her._

"Bloody Hell, Gibbs... Where are ye when I need ye the most..?" Jack murmured aloud, knowing in his heart that he was on his own for this one. Sighing for what seemed like the millionth time in one morning, the captain of the _Black Pearl_ got to his feet and shrugged painfully into his coat. _Sure he had finally come to terms with his feelings, but that didn't mean he had any idea how to act on them. _Strapping on his sword and picking up his hat, he still felt the grip of uneasiness in his stomach as he walked out onto the deck for the first time that morning.

**

* * *

SIMULTANEOUS INSIGHT TO KELSEA SPARROW**

The nine-year-old with deep chocolate curls and deeper chocolate eyes sat in the messy bed, wringing her hands. _What exactly had just happened– in the past few minutes, in the past night, and in the past twenty-four hours..? _Kelsea _–Sparrow, as it were– _sighed deeply and twisted a lock of hair around her finger in deep thought.

_The only man, PERSON really, who had ever cared about her... well, currently his body was at the bottom of the crushing blue and his kindly spirit was somewhere that she couldn't even fathom._ _Yes, Gibbs was gone, and that was one thing she could be sure about. But... what about what he had said? Captain Jack Sparrow– the one unreadable pirate aboard the ship that honestly seemed to dislike her– HE was her FATHER..?_ The young girl's eyes settled upon her sheets, where she noticed dark smudges of kohl. Jack's head must have been there through the night. She traced the oily black streaks with one finger, deeply troubled by the thought that Captain Jack was supposedly her father.

_It just didn't make any sense. All of those years that she had spent growing up aboard the _Pearl_, all of the hours she had spent with Gibbs out on the deck... the man had been standing never more than a stones throw away! If he was her father, then what had kept him from being... well... a FATHER? _Kelsea sighed unhappily, laying down and curling up on her side. The sheet was still warm where his torso had been, she noticed subconsciously, and it smelled faintly of rum and the sea...

_Oh bugger it all. She wanted to be angry with him– NEEDED to be angry with him. The man had ABANDONED her, after all... ABANDONED her when she was SLEEPING in the NEXT ROOM! Damn him, Captain Jack Sparrow had known all along that she was his daughter... and had never done a damn thing about it. He had ignored her, shunned her..._

Without knowing it, she had been twisting the sheet up in her hands, and now she threw it down on the floor in frustration. _Indeed, it was safe to say that Kelsea wanted VERY badly to hate the man she had always referred to as 'Captain' and never 'daddy...' but deep down she knew that she couldn't. Not only could she not HATE him, but she was now finding that she NEEDED the man, damn him to the depths– she needed him now more than ever and it hurt her pride to admit it. _Kelsea Sparrow, nine-year-old-pirate-extraordinare, came to these conclusions and bit her lip before rising to get dressed. Maybe a climb to the royal yard, yes the one she had nearly killed herself climbing from the day before, would help clear her thoughts.


	11. A Scurvy Scallywag Yet

It's quite clear at this point that both father and daughter are aware that they have some sort of yearning for the other's companionship... and are equally determined to squelch said feelings. Funny how things go, isn't it? Worry not, they'll figure it out... probably in the next chapter, hah!

...TanzFieber

* * *

Captain Jack Sparrow was trying not to think. He focused his gaze on the worn wheel beneath his hand, on the backs of his crew as they swabbed the decks, on the rigging pulled taut by the wind, on the sparkling Caribbean sea that ran out to the horizon. He stared intently at his compass, scrutinized the lapel of his coat, and finally took out his pistol to clean it of non-existent dust. Yes, Jack was _trying _not to think, and failing dismally.

He was trying _not _to think of the absence of Gibbs, he was trying _not _to think of the pain in his head/elbow/knees/etc, and he was especially trying _not _to think of a certain girl with dark eyes that matched his own. Unfortunately, all of the conscious thought dedicated to _NOT_ thinking of those things kept them all the more prominent in his mind.

"Marty, see that th'sails've been mended!" He barked, glad to have something to shout about at last. However, the dwarf merely saluted and called out a disheartening answer.

"S'been done, Cap'n Sparrow!"

"Oh. Well check th'_Pearl_'s hull for leaks!"

"Done las' night, Cap'n!"

"Pump th'bilge water from th'cargo hold!"

"Jus' finished this mornin'!"

Jack seethed for a moment, feeling more than a bit sheepish, before finally trying to salvage his pride. He nodded curtly and waved a hand airily at those below. "Right. Well… Well make sure th'decks are nice an'… shiny! I want t'be able t'see me face in 'em!"

"Aye, Cap'n Sparrow."

Murmuring darkly about an 'over-zealous crew,' the pirate captain was forced to resume trying not to think, and thereby, was forced to resume his thinking. Just then, the bang of a door caused him to look up, thankful for a distraction.

Kelsea Sparrow did her best not to notice the sympathetic and all around curious stares she was getting, striding purposefully out on deck with her chin stuck out defiantly. Sparing only a quick glance towards the helm and the man behind it, the girl determinedly began to go about her usual chores. Upon doing so, however, she discovered a problem-- the rest of the crew had already _completed_ all of the tasks for her!

"Damn 'em t'the depths…" She mumbled under her breath, inwardly fuming, unaware that Jack had only recently finished his own mental rant about the 'too-efficient pirates'. However, short of re-dirtying the decks on purpose, there was nothing to be done about the situation. Finally, after wandering around aimlessly for a while, she decided resolutely that she would simply volunteer herself for the crow's nest. She liked being up there, and it would give her some time to be alone and sort out her thoughts.

What she didn't notice (or had been steadfastly ignoring) was that Captain Sparrow was watching her every move out of the corner of his eye. Yes, he may have _appeared_ to be cleaning out his pistol, but he was really watching the young girl like a hawk. Therefore, it wasn't two measly seconds that she had been holding onto the first rungs of rigging before he had made a strangely panicked descent from the helm.

"OI! NOT GOOD! STOP!" He fairly shouted as he half ran/half hobbled to where the rather startled looking girl was hanging about six-inches off the deck. Jack reached her side in record-breaking time and immediately grabbed her by the scruff of the neck, effectively plucking her from the ropes. "What th'bloody hell d'ye think yer doin'?"

A thoroughly disgruntled Kelsea, now dangling by the shirt collar from the captain's grasp, looked at him as if he had lost his mind. "C-cap'n Sparrow--?" she managed to squeak out in question, her speech being inhibited by the fabric riding up around her face. The man doing the holding seemed to suddenly think better of it and unceremoniously dropped her to the deck.

"D'ye have a death wish, girl?" he demanded incredulously. The nine-year-old wrinkled her nose at him and sat up from the heap she had fallen into.

"S'jus' tryin' t'do me duties, Captain…" she replied almost indignantly as he contemplated her.

"Tryin' t'climb up th'rigging after nearly killin' yerself doin' just that not twenny-four hours ago?" Jack sighed and his shoulders sagged just a little bit. "Don' exactly fancy breakin' me other arm if ye decide t'try an' fly again. Savvy?"

Kelsea scowled at basically being forbidden to climb to the crow's nest, but it was clear that his tone brooked no argument from her. And yet, she proceeded to engage him in a staring contest for a few moments. The crew, who were all secretly employing that same peripheral spying technique that the captain had used earlier, held their breath as the Sparrow's faced off. Finally though, it was the girl who backed down, turning her gaze to his boots.

"Aye, Cap'n."

Jack breathed a heavy mental sigh of relief, nodding shortly. "Then get on wiv ye, whelp-- jus' do us a favor an' try not t'do anythin'… stupid."

_So, 'tis back t'this… _Kelsea thought bitterly as he turned to swagger back to the wheel of the ship. _I'm the 'whelp' again an' now forbidden t'do anything!_ She tried to cheer herself up by making a few particularly terrible faces at his back-- and nearly bit off her tongue trying to recover when he suddenly spun around again to face her. Jack Sparrow smiled ironically, gold teeth glinting.

"Oh an' mebbe ye should try t'fix yer clothes if ye don' have anythin' else t'do… They're a liddle big, I've noticed, an' make ye look skinnier than ye are. If yer wanting t'stay aboard th'_Black Pearl_, I won' have ye lookin' like a weak gutter waif. Makes th'rest o' me crew look soft." he sneered, wondering at his own behavior even as he spoke. One minute he felt sure that he would try and be nice to the girl, and the next he was cutting her down. Certainly the mind of Jack Sparrow was a mystery-- sometimes as much to himself as it was to others.

"…Aye, Cap'n." the young girl tried not to appear as snubbed as she felt, quickly turning away from the crew and stalking back to the crew's living quarters. What was his _problem_, anyhow?

**

* * *

LATER THAT AFTERNOON…**

Kelsea Sparrow's eyes were nearly crossed as she inspected her reflection in the none-too-reflective surface of a silver tray. Currently standing in the middle of Jack Sparrow's cabin, the child was looking a bit on the silly side-- she had kohl smudged all over her hands and, more noticeably, across her face; was wearing a coat pilfered from the captain's chest of clothing, this one far larger than the one she had previously worn; and sported one of his red bandanas, tied inexpertly about her head.

"ARGH!" She tried experimentally, scowling her meanest pirate-scowl. Discouragingly, it didn't do much in the way of intimidation… rather lending itself to apparent foolishness. Even more discouragingly, it was at that very moment that the door swung open.

"Whelp, are ye-- Mother o' God…" Captain Jack Sparrow stopped in his tracks as his eyes fell upon the girl standing in the middle of his room. With the coat hitting the floor, the bandana falling over her face and the kohl-racoon-eyes that she had given herself, she looked positively… ridiculous. He stood in the doorway and looked her up and down a few times while trying his damndest not to laugh. Placing his one good hand on his hip, he pressed his lips together to prevent a smile and gave her what he hoped was a skeptical stare. "I see ye've taken me advice about lookin' more fierce…"

Kelsea felt a blush creeping to her cheeks beneath all of that black oily make-up, and did the only thing she could-- she stood up taller under his scrutiny and gazed haughtily back. This expression only seemed to cause more hilarity for the captain, and subconsciously endeared her to him even further.

"Lass… What're ye doin' with my effects?" he asked haltingly with a not-well-concealed chuckle. Perhaps the most glaring oddity to her appearance was that it made her look uncannily like Jack Sparrow himself-- the only true differences being the skewed kohl and the absence of the tri-cornered hat.

"Nothin'." She replied eloquently, cursing herself for not having a better answer. By now she was aware of how ludicrous she must seem to him-- playing dress-up in (gulp) _daddy's _clothing. Jack only nodded, by now the amusement apparent in his eyes.

"So it _is_ that ye want t'turn pirate, oh I see!" he exclaimed somewhat sarcastically. Just then, however, he noticed that her chin was quivering and that tears glistened in her eyes. _Damn, didn' really mean t'make th'girl upset…_ "Oh come now, lass… I didn'… I jus'…" He stammered, hoping fervently that she wouldn't go to pieces on him.

The nine-year-old was hoping the very same thing, biting the inside of her cheek savagely and blinking back the water welled up in her eyes. Kelsea Sparrow was as stubborn and strong-willed as a girl could be, but the fact remained that she was only nine years of age and feeling humiliated was not something she was used to dealing with. As it was, she just managed to keep back the tears of embarrassment and quickly set about scrubbing at her face to remove the kohl. "Apologies fer touchin' yer things, Cap'n Sparrow."

Before he knew what he was doing, Jack strode across the room to her and stopped her violent rubbing. She looked up at him with anger in her dark eyes, and he cocked an eyebrow at her. "Ye know… Aside from bein' a lass an' that coat being slightly too big," he started thoughtfully with a smirk, "Ye don't make a bad pirate, whelp."

Kelsea, who noticed that he was still holding the hand she had been rubbing with, could only stare up at him with incredulity written across her face. He flashed her another of his trade-mark grins and stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"Somethin's missin' though…" he snapped his fingers. "Ah, I've got just th'thing!" Jack suddenly swept his beloved hat off of his own head and… dropped it grandly onto hers. "Ye'll make a scurvy scallywag yet, girl." with that, he turned and strode out of the room, leaving a very confused little girl in his wake.

He comforted her during the night, scolded her in the morning, and after scorning her not five moments before-- proceeded to encourage her by way of offering up one of his most prized possessions. Yes, Captain Jack Sparrow's volatile mood swings had struck again!

* * *

A/N: Confusing bugger, ain't he? Always glad of the reviews, dears-- thanks!  



	12. Heard ye cursing

I find it rather amusing that I had a very different idea of how this chapter was going to go, but it seemed to take its own course. I realize that this one is a bit short, but seeing as how it spawned from nowhere, I feel like it's at least worth keeping. It's really very hot sitting here in the dark at my computer (New England is in the middle of a terrible heatwave), so this will serve to tide any of you faithful readers over whilst I seek out air-conditioning. The story shall progress as planned --now the next idea is even more enhanced-- so don't worry. I'll have another chapter posted by tomorrow! Stay cool...

...TanzFieber

The next time Kelsea appeared on deck, it was in her normal clothing. However, the crew was no less than amazed to see their captain's _beloved hat_ perched upon her head above a better-fitting blue bandana. Collectively holding their breaths, they waited for Jack to spot her audacity and fly into some sort of hysterical rage. Yet, as they waited the seconds turned to minutes and still nothing happened! Each of them peered cautiously towards the helm in turn, wondering if the captain was merely otherwise occupied so as not to have noticed the girl.

Noting the amazed glances that were dancing from herself to Jack Sparrow, the nine-year-old almost felt like giggling. Of course, she was just as surprised as they were about how events were unfolding, but had resigned herself to the notion that the captain simply had a few screws loose-- turned out that he was a hard man to predict. After gauging the lack of reaction from Jack, and she was _sure _that he had seen her, Kelsea simply trotted over to where Cotton was coiling rope and began helping.

For his part, Captain Jack was having new issues-- rather, old ones that had resurfaced. He had indeed noticed the girl and the fact that she was still sporting his hat, but right now it was not the most pressing issue. More urgent than that, was the pain in his left elbow. Since all of the, er, _excitement _of the previous afternoon, the injury had become secondary and he had been able to ignore it. Now, as he stood up at the helm with it cradled against his body, it seemed as if there were a red-hot poker within his arm instead of a bone-- every single beat of his heart sent waves of pain through him. Jack ground his teeth, trying to stoically bear the pain so that he wouldn't look foolish in front of his crew.

"S'cuse me, Cap'n Sparrow?"

Jack fairly jumped in surprise and whirled around, all of this only jarring his arm and doubling the pain. He couldn't help but squinch his face up in agony before glaring at whoever had startled him. Kelsea looked up at him apologetically, seemingly having come up beside him without his realizing it. _Sneaky liddle beastie!_ Regaining his composure somewhat, the pirate captain managed to grit his teeth and reply. "Whaddye want, Whelp?"

Seeing the apparent amount of pain that he was in, the girl quickly babbled out her reason for interrupting him. "I… I jus' thought t'tell ye that I know somethin' what could help yer arm…"

He eyed her suspiciously, but in the end he admitted that he was willing to try _anything _to quell the pain. Jack nodded sharply and raised an eyebrow. "Much obliged if ye'd like t'share."

"Well… Once when I broked me wrist playin' a game, Mr. Gibbs…" she paused here at the bitter-sweet memory of her old friend and swallowed hard before going on. "Well, Mr. Gibbs fixed it an' tied me arm up in someways that kept it from movin' too much…"

Jack's eyes lit up as he realized what she meant, and cursed himself for not thinking of it earlier. _A sling, of course!_ Without waiting to thank the girl for her advice, he simply turned and headed for his cabin, intent on fashioning one. Suddenly left alone, Kelsea rolled her eyes at his receding back-- she knew from her own experience with Gibbs that the man would not be able to put one on by himself.

**

* * *

SOME FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER…**

Marty jumped from his previous position of listening at the door as a string of curses foul enough to peel paint exploded from within-- the captain had disappeared into his cabin some minutes before, and whatever curious thing he was doing, it was obvious that it wasn't going exactly as planned. Clearly complications had arisen, ensued, and were _not_ being overcome with any amount of simplicity.

Also having heard the shouts, Kelsea wrinkled her nose and crept to the door alongside the dwarf. "Sounds like mebbe th'cap'n needs help, eh?" she asked to nobody in particular. However, just as she was about to knock, Marty grabbed her hand.

"Beggin' yer pardon, Miss Kelsea, but don' ye think ye'd better leave th'cap'n be..?" he implored her, knowing full well that Jack's temper was bound to be flaring and that the girl was probably the _last _person he would want assistance from.

"No," she said simply with a smirk. "Sounds like he needs help." Deciding that knocking would only prolong the inevitable, she turned the knob and opened the door slowly. Everyone else on the deck visibly cringed and edged away from the entrance, half expecting something to be thrown.

Standing in the middle of the room, Captain Jack Sparrow's shoulders heaved in exertion as he only succeeded in tangling himself up in the long bit of bed sheet that he held in one hand. Upon hearing the door open, he glanced over and immediately stopped what he was doing. "H-how many times've I told all you bloody bumbling idiots to KNOCK?"

Kelsea knew it was a rhetorical question and so said nothing as she sidled into the room, much as Gibbs had the day before. "Apologies, Cap'n Sparrow, jus' thought mebbe ye could use my help wiv that?"

Jack glared sullenly at her, but said nothing. The girl smiled timidly and stepped closer, tentatively reaching out to take the hindering sheet from him. He allowed her to relieve him of the cloth, and from there she worked deftly. Producing a small knife from her jacket and cutting a square from the larger bit, she folded the piece in half and looked up at him again.

"Hold out yer arm please, Cap'n."

He did as she bade him, although still scowling somewhat mutinously. Ignoring the expression, Kelsea gently placed the injured limb in the crease of the sling she had fashioned and clambered up on to the edge of the bed so that she could reach up behind his neck and tie the two ends together. Once finished, the dark-haired child smiled in satisfaction.

"All better now," she piped up cheerfully in a way only a nine-year-old girl could. Jack was thoroughly surprised at the sudden relief he was experiencing at the reduction of stress on his injury.

"That's interesting," He mused aloud, although mostly to himself. "That's very interesting." The pair of them stood silently for a moment before he remembered her presence and cleared his throat. "I… Well, my thanks t'ye, lass," the captain mumbled gruffly and she jumped down off the bed to the floor.

"Yer welcome." And with that statement and a flash of a bright smile, Kelsea Sparrow scampered back out of the room-- the tri-cornered hat still on her head as if it had always been there.

Captain Jack tested out his arm again, and finding that it honestly did feel worlds better, shook his head in amazement. Perhaps there _was_ a reason that the rest of the crew was so fond of the whelp, after all…


	13. Not the Floor Again

I must say that I'm satisfied with the way this chapter turned out --for some reason the 'card scene' ended up being particularly gratifying to write-- so please do let me know what you think. At this rate, I'm thinking that another five chapters (give or take) should put a cap on this story, although you never can tell what will ultimately take place. Hope you enjoy this, and perhaps note that once again I'm sitting at my computer at 3:12 in the morning to post this. Heh.

... TanzFieber

The lantern light guttered as a breeze sprung up and the two figures whose faces were illuminated by the small flame shivered a bit. Kelsea curled her fingers tighter around a small stack of wooden poker chips, gazing intently at the five cards held before her face from under the brim of a beaten tri-cornered hat. Poking her tongue out in concentration, the girl finally chose two of the five and laid them down on the table. "Two, please," she said carefully, watching the face across from hers carefully for a reaction– to no avail.

Mr. Cotton's kindly wrinkled face was the perfect poker blank as he slid her two new cards from the beaten-up deck to his right. Even the parrot seemed to sense the gravity of the situation, and didn't make a sound as the transaction took place. The bird even appeared to study Cotton's own hand as the man reassessed it. After contemplating his chances for a moment, the elderly pirate cove exchanged only one before settling back down to level a challenging stare at the nine-year-old. Kelsea bit her lip for a moment and scrunched up her nose before finally challenging him.

"Alrigh', Mr. Cotton… Think I've got ye this time…" She pushed the hat back off her forehead before laying her hand on the table. "Full-house!"

The other sighed rather dramatically and rolled his eyes towards the heavens before showing her his own cars– a pair of twos and a pair of kings. He couldn't keep up the disappointed charade for long though, because the small girl's face had broken out into a contagious grin.

"Ah-HAH! I beatchya! YES!" Kelsea yelped gleefully, scooping the pile of chips into her lap and raising her arms in victory. Still trying to hide his smile, Cotton shook a gnarled finger at her and his parrot broke its silence.

"Walk the plank!" The bird squawked accusingly, to which the dark-haired child responded by wrinkling her nose and pointing back.

"Did not!" she protested, all injured-innocence except for the giggling. "Mr. Cotton, th'bird thinks I cheated! I did not– I won fair 'n square this time, on me oath I did!" Unfortunately, it was then that another ten or so chips fell out of the girl's sleeve and onto the table. "Oh. Um. Er… Who's been puttin' chips in me sleeves? Swear t'wasn't me, Mr. Cotton, on me oath t'wasn't!"

It was only a few moments after that when both the girl and the old man had dissolved completely into laughter, the bird still repeating his accusations. Huddled around a crate on the deck of the _Black Pearl_, neither she nor he felt the eyes that watched their every move.

Captain Jack Sparrow pulled his coat tighter about himself against the slight chill and readjusted the sling from where it was chafing uncomfortably on his neck. The cheery laughter coming from the deck below had definitely not failed to catch his attention, and he stepped closer to the railing so as to get a better look at what was going on.

"PIRATE, AWK!" cried the parrot.

"LOOK WHO'S BLOODY TALKIN'!"

Jack swallowed the lump in his throat that arose as he watched his _daughter's _antics, taking in the way she danced around like a dervish and pulled ridiculous faces through her giggles. Jack watched the mate Cotton smile indulgently in the way that he had, his shoulders shaking with the same cheery laughter. Jack watched as Kelsea finally responded to the parrot's repeated calls of 'PIRATE!' with a dramatic bow and a doffing of her (and by _her_, he meant _his_) hat… and Jack sighed.

_Huh, resilient liddle lass_… he thought absently before making his way towards the stairs, wondering at the fact that she could be so apparently carefree after all that had happened in the recent past. _Wish t'were really that easy…_

Down on the deck, Kelsea Sparrow stopped her jig and finally just collapsed back against the crate-table, breathing deeply of the salty air. Cotton panted a bit as well, shaking his grizzled head good-naturedly. Just as she was about to challenge him to another game, however, the sound of someone clearing his throat caused her to look up.

"S'gettin' late, lass… Time ye got t'bed." the captain stated rather brusquely, having arrived next to the poker-playing duo. "Cotton, what say ye take th'firs' watch?"

The raven-haired little girl opened her mouth as if to argue, but Cotton only patted her hand and nodded at her in an obvious 'he's right' sort of way. She sighed and nodded herself, dumping her stash of wooden chips back onto the crate. "As ye say, Cap'n Sparrow."

The truth was, although she was tired Kelsea was very much dreading the thought of going to bed– the thought of returning to Joshamee Gibbs's empty cabin by herself. She was _sure_ the nightmares would come back and frankly it scared her, but not quite enough to mention it to Captain Jack… A girl had to have _some _pride, after all. She made short work of clearing away the cards and chips before glancing up at Mr. Cotton one more time.

"Goodnight… Thanks fer teachin' me…"

"Clear skies an' smooth sailin'!" called the blue and yellow parrot– which, for the most part, everyone figured meant 'goodnight.' Pulling a cloak about his shoulders, Cotton headed aft and Jack was once again left alone in the company of one small girl.

"Lissen, lass–" he began, but was immediately cut off.

"Thanks fer letting' me borrow yer hat, Captain. 'Night."

Jack Sparrow sighed for seemingly the bazillionth time as he looked down at the tri-cornered hat that had been thrust into his hands and then back up at the girl's back as she strode away purposefully. Alone _again_."…Bugger."

**

* * *

LATER IN THE DARK…**

"NOOO! SAVE ME–! ANYBODY–!"

For the second night in a row, Jack Sparrow was jolted awake by desperate cries– although thankfully, he wasn't in a chair this time. Still, he floundered in his sheets for a few disorienting moments, cursing as he bumped his head against the wall. _What the–? Bloody Hell, not again…_

Despite his hopes, however, another few wails coming from the room across the hall confirmed the obvious– _th'whelp were havin' nightmares again_. Jack reluctantly sat up with a groan and climbed out of bed, fairly stalking bare-foot across his quarters and into the hall. Grumbling darkly about ridiculous little girls being afraid of their own shadows, he quietly opened the door across from his own and peered inside.

"N-noo… Mr. G-gibbs… M'sor-ryy-yy…"

Furrowing his brow, Jack tried his damndest to remember that he was annoyed at being woken up… but it now seemed impossible as he once again found himself gazing down at the fragile sleeping figure of his small daughter. Once again prompted by some instinct that he didn't really understand, the pirate stretched out a hand and brushed a lock of chocolate hair away from the girl's face.

"Shhh… Wake up, lass…" he murmured and she immediately acted upon his words, startling awake with a strangled gasp. Kelsea Sparrow glanced around wildly before her gaze adjusted to take in the shadowy figure of Jack standing over her.

"C-cap'n..?" she stammered unsurely, still trying to separate the all-too-real dream from the present night-time reality.

"Aye. S'jus' a dream, lass– breathe easy now…"

Silence fell, except for the child's still somewhat labored breathing. Kelsea was clutching at her blanket and Jack was still unconsciously stroking her hair. It wasn't long, however, that the captain became aware of what he was doing and let his hand drop.

"Alrigh' now?" he asked finally, his voice thick with sleep and tinged with uncertainty.

"I-I Think so…"

"Good. I'll um. I'll jus' be getting' back t'bed then…" he mumbled awkwardly, and had turned to go when he felt a small clammy hand grab his own.

"No–!" the small child had cried out automatically, and when he stopped to look at her incredulously, she blushed in the darkness. Unfortunately, she knew that at least in the dark, her need for company would win against her pride. Taking a deep breath, Kelsea whimpered softly. "P-please… stay wiv me?"

"… What?"

"M'sorry, jus'… Don' leave… please…"

Jack Sparrow gazed down at the girl, completely and utterly unsure of what to do. _Should he stay? Should he leave? _Once voice in his head told him to pull away from her and let the whelp deal with her own bad dreams… but another was keeping him rooted to the floor. He sighed and felt her fingers tighten around his own.

"Lass, m'not sleepin' on this bloody floor again…" he began, trying to be firm. Kelsea said nothing, but her pleading eyes continued to burn into his soul in the darkness.

"I– um… Oh Bloody Hell…" Jack exhaled heavily, shaking his head at what he was about to say. "Alrigh', up ye get." he slid his hand from hers and stepped back a pace, motioning exasperatedly for her to follow. The girl didn't move for a moment, staring dumbly up at him. "I said, _c'mon_–"

"Um… Where're we going..?" Kelsea found her small voice at last, but the captain simply waved at her impatiently, stifling a yawn.

"Well ye won' stay here by yer onesies an' I refuse t'put meself through the agony o' sleepin' on the planks, so come wiv me."

Still confused and blinking sleep from her eyes, the nine-year-old child finally did as he bade, getting to her feet and following him out of the room. Once in the hallway, the door banged shut, causing the girl to jump and latch onto the man-in-front-of-her's person with a frightened squeak.

"Oomph–!" Jack grunted at the impact and felt her arms encircle his waist. He turned in her grasp and looked down, gazing at the top of her head as her face was currently buried in his shirt. It wasn't that the sudden action made him uncomfortable– rather, the _opposite– _and that _did _tend to be disconcerting. _Why was there a (not unpleasant) surge in his gut as he laid an uncertain on top of her head..? What was this inexplicable feeling of warmth that he was experiencing as she held on to him? BUGGER BUGGER BUGGER, he didn't LIKE it, did he–? _Afraid to read any further into it for the time being, the dread-locked pirate decided to just pretend like nothing had happened. Turning once more, he continued towards his destination, the girl still holding onto his shirt with both hands.

During that same shirt-clutching moment, Kelsea was mentally berating herself. _What'm I doin' holdin onto 'im–? Don' be such a baby, t'was prob'ly th'wind!_ Despite these deprecating thoughts, however, the child could not bring herself to let go of the man. _Bleedin' hell…_Before she could think any further, she walked into the back of him as he stopped.

"Alrigh', whelp… jus' get inta th'bed an' get some sleep."

Kelsea slowly unclenched her fistfulls of shirt and gazed around in confusion. "W-where are we, C-cap'n?"

"Me cabin." Jack yawned again and gave her a gentle, but somewhat impatient shove towards the unmade bed in the corner. "Now sleep."

Wondering at this new turn of events but afraid to ask questions or argue, the girl allowed herself to be shepherded towards the bed and finally just clambered in. _The sheets smelled of rum and the sea…_

Neither father nor daughter spoke for a long– the girl gazing mutely up and the pirate gazing wordlessly down in the darkness. After a bit, though, the child's eyelids began drooping and with one last muffled yawn, she slumped down asleep in the bed. Sighing in relief, the notorious Captain Jack Sparrow suddenly noticed how tired he himself was. _Only one problem: where was HE going to sleep if the whelp was in his bed–?_

**

* * *

AND AFTER THAT…**

_Sunshine filtered lazily in through the small porthole, throwing dancing oceanic reflections across the planked floor. Also newly illuminated in the corner of the room, two slumbering forms in a somewhat ridiculous arrangement– the full-sized bed held one dread-locked pirate propped against the pillows and one raven-haired little girl curled against him, her head laying on his knee._

_

* * *

_A/N: This last scene, you may realize, is partially verbatim to the opening paragraph of chapter ten. Note the sublte differences though, eh? Oh, and one more thing: lately there have been a couple of ideas floating around inside my (nearly empty otherwise) head and I was thinking of capitalizing on them in the form of new stories. Both ideas are J/E ficlets, although neither would include the standard romantic pairing. I'll put it to you, my lovelies-- should I go for it?


	14. Bloody Broom Handles

Sorry for the wait on this one, kids, got a little caught up with work-- although earlier I sat down and managed to plot out the rest of this story. Remember how I said I could probably finish it in a few more chapters? Uh, yeah, that was a blatant lie. Looks like this one's going to be going on for awhile, heh. However, now that it's all mapped out, it will be much easier to fill in the blanks and continue to get more chapters up. Review as you see fit, I appreciate it!

...TanzFieber

The seasons came and went, rain and shine, day in and day out. More sun and more storms. More days and more weeks. Since the days of nightmares, since the day of Joshamee Gibbs's untimely demise, things aboard the _Black Pearl_ had once again smoothed out into a comfortable routine. Jack Sparrow still stood at the helm through all weather, Cotton still endlessly coiled the long ropes, Marty still kept the sails patched, and Kelsea still made faces at the captain while his back was turned. In fact, the only difference was the decline of awkwardness between father and daughter-- they had strolled out of the captain's quarters the morning after the second bout of nightmares as a pair and ever since, Kelsea and Jack Sparrow were quite the duo. That didn't mean, however, that the faces stopped because as long as it mildly annoyed Jack, Kelsea was at it. 

_"Whelp, f'I catch ye mockin' me m'gonna tan yer ungrateful liddle hide!" He shouted, whirling around to face her. For her part, Kelsea, who had been creeping along behind him with her tongue out and eyes crossed, was be the picture of innocence as soon as turned._

_"Who, me? Cap'n Sparrow, m'only here t'do yer bidding!" she claimed, hands out placatingly. Jack could only roll his eyes and turn again to go on his way and Kelsea was immediately mimicking him, mouthing his words and waving her arms around drunkenly._

_"I bloody mean it, whelp!"_

_"What? M'not doin' anythin'!"_

And so things continued on. Each day she mocked him for a few hours, and he would yell at her for a few hours. In the afternoons he would teach her about sailing-- although if ever a crewman passed too near his kindly instruction would become a barking order and she, understanding at last that the man only wanted to protect his dangerous reputation, would plaster on a mask of fear and awe. It didn't really make sense that they bothered, in a way, for the crew all knew that their captain had a soft spot for the girl.

For those initial few nights after the first she spent in his bed, Kelsea would still go to sleep in Gibbs's former cabin. Inevitably she would scream out during a nightmare, and inevitably Jack would go stumbling in and wake her. Inevitably he would try to leave, and inevitably she wouldn't want him to. Inevitably he would refuse to stay on the floor, and inevitably she would end up in his bed. Finally, Jack simply decided that if she was going to end up in his room anyhow, she might as well start out there and save him the blind, bumping trips into the other room that left him sore all over.

So, as fate would have it, one day Kelsea awoke to find her ol' Jack stringing a hammock up in the corner of the room, just next to the bed.

_Kelsea Sparrow yawned and stretched, surreptitiously burying her head in the pillow and breathing in the scent that she had by now decided was the true meaning of comfort. However, her eyes sprang open at the sound of banging and swearing. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, the young girl peered over to witness a rather strange sight._

_"Um…What're ye doin', Cap'n..?"_

_Jack Sparrow had nails clenched in his teeth and a wooden mallet in one hand as he tried to single-handedly pound one of the metal bits into the wall. He was none-too-successful and cursed at every opportunity. Finally, he noticed that she was awake and spat out the nails, sighing exasperatedly._

_"M'hanging up a hammock, whatsit look like?"_

_Kelsea contemplated this for a moment before climbing out of bed and going over to help him. She wasn't stupid-- she realized that it would be rather difficult to drive in a nail with only one good hand to work with._

_"Why're ye hangin' up a hammock, then?"_

_"'Cause you, whelp, are determined t'disturb me sleep every night wiv yer caterwauling an' then I have t'go an' bloody retrieve ye an' I have bruises all over me shins as it as an'…" Jack trailed off here with another sigh as she relieved him of the mallet. "an' I figger it'll be easier t'save meself a trip by lettin' ye sleep in this hammock t'begin wiv."_

_"Oh."_

And the hammock was hung and the precedence was set… but more often than not the morning sun crept in and found one bed full of a captain snoring lightly with a daughter curled against his side.

As I said, though, that didn't mean that the mocking faces stopped-- because as I said, as long as it mildly annoyed Jack, Kelsea was at it. It was due to this very habit, in fact, that one day a few weeks after Gibbs's death something else changed--

**

* * *

THE DAY IN QUESTION…**

"Brace th'yard lines!" Captain Jack called out as he swagger-strode across the main decks. "C'mon, ye dozy cads, toute suite!" he added after a moment-- not because they weren't moving fast enough, but because he enjoyed shouting orders.

"Aye, sir!" came the chorus of replies, although each man secretly rolled their eyes and chuckled. Besides the fact that they knew he was full of hot-air, there was also the rather amusing spectacle of Kelsea doing an over-exaggerated, but comically accurate, impression of the captain not two feet behind him. She walked the rolling walk and made the over-expressive faces and accentuated it all with her hands and Marty the dwarf straight out laughed, not being able to help himself.

_"KELSEA SPARROW M'GONNA HANG YE FROM TH'BLEEDIN' BOWSPRIT BY YER BOOTSTRAPS!" _Captain Jack Sparrow spun on his heel to face the girl with a very agitated look across his piratical features, but his expression changed as he caught sight of hers. The girl in question was giving him a rather odd look, one that bespoke of surprise and uncertainty. Finally, she spoke.

"What'd you call me, Cap'n?"

It was then that Jack realized what had just come out of his mouth, and also why she was looking at him in such a way. _He had just then, for the first time since he had known the girl, called her by her name. As he had said to Gibbs on the day he had learned of the given title, 'whelp' would suit him just fine-- and so it had, until just then. Even on previous, more affectionate, occasions, he had called her 'lass.' Now, the cat was out of the bag. Bugger._

"I… I, er…" Jack made a face as she waited for his reponse. "Well, s'yer bloody name, innit?"

Kelsea nodded her head and smiled-- so widely that it scrunched up her nose and made for a very adorable expression. Feeling his insides melt a bit, Captain Sparrow quickly cleared his throat gruffly.

"Away wiv ye, whelp, go scrub something before I really do string ye from th'mast." He pulled his hat off and crammed it down on her head so that it covered her eyes, swatting her away.

"Aye aye, Cap'n Sparrow!"

**

* * *

PRESENTLY…**

"OUCH--! BLOODY--!" Kelsea Sparrow yelped as the a mop-handle smacked down on her knuckles sharply, causing her own piece of cleaning implement to clatter to the deck for the third time in about five minutes. She scowled and gulped as the opposing broken tip of handle rose to her throat, raising her hands in surrender.

"What've I said about keepin' yer sword-point up, Kels, eh?" Captain Jack grinned a very aggravating, gold-studded grin as he brandished the handle at his daughter. For her part, the 12-year-old rolled her eyes and bent to retrieve her own wooden weapon.

"I haven' GOT a bloody sword-- all I've got is this cursed piece of broom!" she countered, her dark eyes flashing.

It was a typical sunny day on the Caribbean sea and the _Black Pearl _ploughed on at an easy rate with Cotton taking watch at the helm. The Sparrows were up on the foc'sle, had been all afternoon, passing the hours with a lesson in dueling. For obvious safety reasons, instead of swords they were using halves of mop handles and now Kelsea tossed hers down in frustration.

"Givin' up so soon t'day, whelp?" Jack still called her by the familiar title now and again, mostly just when he was ribbing her-- as he was now. Shooting him a look, the dark-haired girl shook her head.

"Jus' givin' yer old bones a rest, father of mine."

"Captain. _Captain_ father-o'-yers, Luv."

Chuckling easily, the pair fell out of fighting formation and leaned back on the railings. The truth was, Jack _was_ glad of the break-- the girl was an astoundingly quick study and it was all he could do to best her. He breathed deep of the salty breeze and glanced over to his daughter who was staring out at the horizon.

"What's on yer mind, Kelsea?"

Glancing back at him, the girl merely readjusted her bandana and shrugged. "Nothin' important."

"My incredibly intuitive sense of the female mind tells me that you are troubled. Let's 'ave it."

Kelsea rolled her eyes at him before turning back to gaze at the sea, but murmured one sentence that wiped the smile off of his face. "Jus' thinkin' 'bout Mr. Gibbs…"

Jack Sparrow sighed, his matching the one that came out of her mouth at the same time. _He knew that she missed the kindly man terribly-- even after three years she still mumbled his name in her sleep on some nights so that he would have to stroke her hair until she slumbered more peacefully. It wasn't that he, Captain Jack, didn't miss his first-mate just as much because he did… he was just better at fighting off the emotion better than his twelve-year-old was. _"We all miss 'im, Luv…"

"I know that." the young girl tried to surreptitiously wipe her teary eyes with her sleeve, but Jack noticed anyway and awkwardly put a hand on her shoulder, wishing that there was something he could say to make her feel better. Suddenly, an idea came to him.

"I've 'ad a thought-- why don' we pick up our illustrious weapons an' I'll beat ye some more?"

Kelsea smiled a small smile and responded to his teasing with a snort. "M'gonna beatchya this time, Cap'n Jack." She bent to retrieve both handles, but before she could Jack's boot came down upon them. "What?"

"Just a moment, lass-- Oi! Mr. Cotton!" He turned away from her and strode over to the helm where he had a brief conversation with the man steering. Cotton nodded his head and drew his sword, handing it over to the captain. "Much obliged, mate," he stated before returning to where Kelsea stood.

"Y'mean yer lettin' me use that sword?" she asked incredulously, but he shook his head.

"No. I'm lettin' ye use _this_ sword." Jack pushed back his coat and laid his hand on the hilt of his own beloved weapon, drawing it with a flourish. Flipping it expertly, he presented it to his astounded child.

"Cap'n?" she squeaked, almost nervous to touch the battle-scarred but well-kept weapon. "S'yer _sword_--"

Jack only rolled his eyes at her observation and chuckled, still holding it out. "M'aware of that, Kels, an' for th'record… it _was_ my sword. Now it's yours."

Finally the raven-haired girl wrapped her fingers around the worn hilt and took it from him, her eyes riveted on the blade. She couldn't _believe_ what he was telling her. _It was hers now--?_

"Ye've got a mind fer dueling, Kelsea Sparrow… High time ye had a blade like a proper buccaneer. That one will serve ye well, s'long as ye take care of it."

Kelsea gulped and nodded, not noticing the affectionate gaze that Jack had leveled at her. After a few moments of silence, he broke it by clearing his throat. She looked up to find the blade of Cotton's sword pointed at her throat.

"Now. En garde."


	15. Just Like Jack's

It is exactly 3:25 in the morning and the only thing I can say is: _PHEW!_ This chapter, my friends, is unnaturally long as compared to the others. In fact, there are a few places within it that I could have easily broken itup into multiple segments, but for some reason decided not to. The muse striking and all of that, I suppose. Anyhow, I do hope you enjoy my efforts-- reviews would be especially appreciated here. _Is it too rambling? Does the sequencing make sense? Do the characters stay in character? Etc?_ Please do let me know. I'm off to bed, lovelies, can't wait for your feedback!

...TanzFieber

_CLANG!_ the sound of metal on metal resounded on the deck as the swords met and locked down to the hilt.

Kelsea Sparrow dug her heels in and pushed with all of her might, but frankly the fact that she was outweighed by her adversary by about one hundred pounds was working against her. With a squeak of dismay, she found herself skidding backwards towards the railing.

"C'mon lass, show me what ye've got!" Jack Sparrow leaned away and let his daughter regain her footing, but with only a small shove was able to send her backwards again. He grinned wickedly into her face and the next time she surged forwards, he disengaged their weapons and sidestepped-- sending the girl sprawling to the deck from the momentum. Now presented with her unguarded back, the pirate captain swaggered around her prone form and stepped on the blade of her sword, pointing his own at her.

"Easy come, easy go, Luv," Jack purred with another smug look.

Kelsea flipped herself onto her back and sat up on her elbows, finding the opposing sword tip leveled at her throat. The twelve-year-old scowled darkly and knocked his blade away with the flat of her knuckles, earning an even bigger golden grin from the man at the other end of said blade. "S'not me fault yer _bigger_ than I am…"

"Rather, but it _is_ yer fault fer not keeping yer momentum in check. I've tol' ye twoscore times, Kels, don' use force ye can't stop." Jack could tell that she was getting highly annoyed-- a fiery blush was creeping to her sun-chapped cheeks. "So, young missy, game t'try again?"

The dark-haired girl got to her feet and kicked the sword up into her right hand, eyes flashing. "En garde, Captain!"

"That's my girl."

The swords met again with an echoing crash, and the Sparrows circled again. Since it was late in the afternoon, by now all the crew had finished most of their tasks and ventured up to the main deck to see what all the ruckus was about. Catching sight of dueling father and daughter, all members of the crew smiled appreciatively and quietly began making wagers on the outcome of the fight. Jack was bigger and more experienced, but Kelsea was quick. The pirates of the _Black Pearl_ knew their captain to be a skilled fighter who could not be bested by most men. At the same time, however, they also knew that the girl fought like a small tiger and she had beaten them all in playful duels at one time or another. What it came down to, they knew, was the fighting edge-- the desire to win the scuffle at all costs-- and each man recognized that it was Kelsea who had it.

When Jack was fighting another cutthroat for his life, he was as dangerous as they come, but right then he was fighting his young daughter and the easy humor was evident on his face. He was lazier with his parries and half-force with his attacks, and Kelsea was slowly starting to notice that. The girl was fighting for her injured pride, and began seeking weaknesses in the captain's form. _Yes, it was only the truth that most of the crew daringly had their money on the dark-haired little nymph wearing the captain's hat_.

Jack Sparrow let out a hiss of surprise as he blocked a thrust and only narrowly ducked the over-head swing that came directly following it. _Since when did th'whelp pull out combinations like that--? _His kohl-rimmed eyes widened a bit as he realized that he would actually have to work for this fight. Looking into the face of his young daughter, the captain could see the angry determination that the crew had already noticed… and his stomach did a bit of a flip-flop. _What if lost to her in front of the men--?_

For her part, Kelsea chewed viciously at the inside of her cheek and shook a bit of sweat from her eyes, searching for that opening. Taught little tricks by each crew member and then schooled by the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow himself, the twelve-year-old now found herself fighting on instinct for the first time in her life. This time it wasn't broom sticks, it wasn't a lesson, and she wasn't laughing. _Lunge. Parry. Thrust. Spin. _She was pulling out every trick in the book, and some that weren't.

_CLANG!_ The blades locked again and Jack leapt at the chance to use his larger size to his advantage for the second time. He shoved and she backed up, moving with him instead of trying the impossible task of out-muscling him. However, not looking where she was going, she tripped over a coil of rope and sat down hard. Sensing victory, Jack laughed harshly and lunged for the disarming stroke that would give him the win.

As the sword-tip flashed forwards, Kelsea did something most unexpected: She whipped Jack's hat from her head to smother the thrust… but the keen blade bit through the tough leather and came through the other side, stopping inches from her face. Despite this heart-stopping moment, she twisted the tri-corne sharply, wrenching the still-embedded sword from the captain's grasp. Before he had time to do anything but yelp in surprise, the dark-eyed girl had flipped the 'hat-kabob' around so that she was holding the hilt and in the same motion, pointed her own sword at her adversary's chest.

"Easy come, easy go, Cap'n," she panted, grinning in triumph as she continued to level her weapon at her father's unprotected chest. The crew of the _Pearl_ broke out into laughter and cheering.

Jack Sparrow stood breathing heavily himself, shock at what had just happened written all over his face. _He, Captain Jack Sparrow, had just been bested by a twelve-year-old runt of a girl in front of his whole entire crew._ Feeling his face burning as he looked around at the men who had just witnessed his defeat, the captain narrowed his eyes dangerously. _How DARE she? _Sure, deep down he knew that she had beaten him fairly and had deserved to win, but that didn't mean he was going to _act_ quite so graciously. "Ye cheatin' cad…" he growled deep in his throat.

Kelsea Sparrow had been in the middle of being congratulated by the crew when she heard his words and glanced up sharply. "What?"

"Ye bloody cheated, that's what!" He repeated, standing up taller. The crew immediately quieted and held their breath. _They might have known he would behave this way… always was a bit of a prima donna. _The girl who was being accused immediately rose to face him, her own dark eyes now narrowing.

"I did not cheat," she replied bitingly, amazed that he was even making such claims.

"Ye ignored th'rules of engagement by usin' outside implements to win! An' look what ye've bloody done to me hat!" Jack raged, snatching the tri-corne from the end of the sword and showing her the slit that was now in the top. "Bloody pirate!"

Under any other circumstances, this accusation would be greeted with appreciative laughter, but this time it was most certainly not. "Pirate--? Yer callin'_ me_ a pirate? Well I don' know if ye've seen a mirror lately, _Captain_…" Kelsea replied scathingly, hot tears beginning to prick the backs of her eyes as she gazed back at her father in anger and confusion. _Why couldn't he just congratulate her for finally winning..?_

Jack only snorted derisively and waved a hand at her in dismissal. "Say whatever ye want, whelp… every man here saw ye cheat." He turned to the men around them suddenly and shouted. "An' who told you stupid lot t'stop yer duties? BACK T'WORK YE BILGE RATS!" They hurried to do as he ordered, each shooting the girl a sympathetic look.

"Now, f'ye'll excuse me… I've got a hat t'fix." Jack Sparrow turned on his heel to stalk away and sulk like a spoiled toddler, but not before he caught sight of Kelsea standing there still holding two swords with tears streaming down her small face. _Bugger…_

**

* * *

LATER THAT EVENING…**

It was as the reddish orb of a sun sunk below the horizon line that the _Black Pearl_ glided into the harbor of Tortuga. Kelsea Sparrow sat in the galley and stared out the small porthole at the sweet and delicate flower that was the pirate's port. She sighed and contemplated her still-full plate of stew and a biscuit before just pushing it away and resting her face in her hands. Since the infamous father-daughter duel that had gone down about three hours ago, the dark-haired girl had bandaged up her bruised knuckles and rested her aching muscles, but nothing had helped the emotional upheaval that the fight had created.

_She had beaten him. Fair and square, she knew, in an epic duel of sorts… and suffice to say that he hadn't taken it well. _In a way, Kelsea could understand where Captain Sparrow was coming from-- could understand that he would find embarrassment in the fact that his daughter had bested him… _In front of th'whole bloody crew, too! _Thinking of this, of the look on Jack's face, the girl began to feel the beginnings of guilt churn in her stomach. _She had only been trying to save her own pride, of course, but had she really NEEDED to humiliate him..? Maybe he was right in being angry with her--_

"'Scuse me, Miss Kelsea?"

The girl jumped and slapped both hands down in surprise-- one of them landing directly in her plate of stew. The goopy brown gravy hit her directly in the face and she scrunched her features up, feeling a particularly large glob slide down her nose. _"Eww…" _was the articulate response that came from her mouth and she used the back of a sleeve to wipe her eyes.

Duncan, the crew member who had startled her, stood nearby trying to rather unconvincingly disguise his laughing as coughing. Kelsea cracked open one eye and glared at him.

"Shut yer gob, Duncan… Don' think I won' come over there an' wipe this all over ye…" For a friendly twelve-year-old, she certainly could pull out the _'aggravated Jack Sparrow' _impression when she wanted to.

This shut him up, but he continued to smirk. "Ahem. Sorry…"

"Somethin' ye wanted, mate?"

"Oh, er… Th'Cap'n wants t'see ye in his cabin. Erm… Toute suite, I think was 'ow 'e said it."

Kelsea finally finished wiping her face to the best of her ability, and looked over at him before nodding. "Aye… I'll be righ' over." Duncan nodded and patted her on the arm with another chuckle before ducking out of the galley.

The raven-haired daughter of Captain Jack Sparrow sat for a moment longer, absently combing bits of salted meat from her hair. _So if she HAD been wrong to beat him that way… maybe she should just apologize..?_ She stood up at that, resolved to make things better with the hot-tempered pirate captain she had just begun calling 'dad.' Besides the fact that she felt guilty, Kelsea knew deep down that it was far easier for _her _to admit that she was wrong than it was for him. He was stubborn, and frankly, she didn't want the feud to go on any longer than it had to-- she enjoyed his company too much, not that she would admit it outright.

And so, feeling brighter about the fact that the argument was about to be righted, Kelsea Sparrow made her way across the deck of the _Black Pearl _to the room she shared with a certain captain each night. _KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!_

"Aye? Enter, whoever ye are."

She opened the heavy oaken door and was about to just launch into her apology… "Cap'n I jus' wanted to…" when she noticed that the man standing before her was dressed to go out. "…Oh, er. Were y'goin' somewhere, Cap'n Sparrow?"

Jack stood tugging on one of his soft leather boots, dressed, as she had noted, in his signature garb. Even the kohl around his eyes looked fresh and the tri-cornered hat was newly mended. He looked up at her question and snorted. "What happened t'you, whelp-- yer s'posed t'_eat_ the stew, not try an' _cheat_ it in a _duel_."

_Ouch. CLEARLY he was not as willing to forgive and forget as she was._ Blushing hotly at the fact that he had noticed the gravy still on her face and also at the continued accusations that she was not a fair fighter, Kelsea's previously open expression turned into a scowl. She said nothing in response and he went back to readjusting his appearance.

"Oh, an' as far as where I'm goin'… This whole location is what we pirates like t'call a port-- y'know, a place where big boats go to get out of the open ocean..?" Jack was mocking her mercilessly. It wasn't that he _meant _to be as mean as he was, but the sting of that humiliating loss was still fresh in his mind.

"I _know_ what a port is, thanks."

He smiled his best patronizing smile. "An' what might one _do _at such a place..?" he prompted her sweetly.

"..Get off th'ship an' acquire things." Kelsea finished with a glare, knowing that he was playing mean games with her and hating it. Jack only nodded with that same indulgent smirk and straightened up, walking past her to the open door.

"Smart girl." Just before he left, however, he turned to mention one more thing. "Oh, an' whelp… y'should know that the _type _o' thing I plan on _acquiring _won' want t'share th'bed wiv a child…" he paused until the horrified look on her face indicated that she had caught on to what he was talking about. _He was going to bring back a whore._ "So I'll be needin' ye t'sleep somewhere else this evenin'."

And then Jack Sparrow was gone with a sweep of his long leather coat, and Kelsea was left glaring at his back. _Fine, if he was going to act like a bully, she didn't bloody need him anyway!_

**

* * *

SOME HOURS PASS...**

_"Kelsea--! Help me, lass! Help me, please!" Joshamee Gibbs was clinging desperately to the royal yard arm as the waves tossed the _Pearl _about as if it were a toy boat instead of a full-sized ship. The rolling and plunging deck below seemed miles away, and wind-driven raindrops stung like needles. "KELSEA!" His hands were slipping, he was about to be plucked away by the howling gail--!_

_Little Kelsea Sparrow, holding tight to the same arm not five feet away, stretched out a small hand. "Mr. Gibbs! No--! I'm tryin', really I am! Jus' hold on a liddle longer!" Closer and closer she inched, millimeter by agonizingly slow milimeter… Why couldn't she move properly? It was as if some invisible force were holding her back, leaving her incapable of doing anything except watching her dearest companion dangle precariously from the slippery spar… his fingers slipping… his voice calling for help-- HER help…_

_"Lass, I can't hold on any longer… M'slippin'--! Climb out a bit further an'-- Fer th'love o' mother n' child, why won' ye help me?" His gray eyes bored into her own. Accusing. Begging. Pleading. "We're ole pals, me n' you, lass… don' ye care about me? Me who practically took ye in as me own daughter?"_

_"NO! Don' say that! Mr. Gibbs!" She screamed, shaking her head back and forth, hot tears now mingling with the cold rain on her cheeks. "I'm TRYIN' t'save you, I am! You have t'believe me… P-please… I c-can't…" Stretching. Reaching. Failing._

_He stopped yelling for help. He hung there by his fingertips, the knowledge that he was going to plunge to his doom now concrete in both of their minds. Joshamee Gibbs just stared and Kelsea Sparrow could not look away. Just feet away, perhaps only six inches between their extended fingertips, and she was going to have to watch him die. Accusing. Begging. Pleading. Stretching. Reaching. Failing--_

_"Goodbye, lass…" And he his gnarled hands slipped those last few inches, resignedly it seemed for they ceased clawing at the air. He whispered these last words, but they echoed in her ears, louder than the wind and louder than the rain. Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye…_

_"NOOOOOOOO--!"_

Kelsea Sparrow shot upright, desperately fought the sweaty sheets that entangled her, and tumbled to the floor with a painful bump. Staring wildly around for Mr. Gibbs, she was met only by pitch black. _Was she blind? Was she dead? Was this Hell? _But then dim shapes began to appear in the darkness as her eyes adjusted. _That large lump over there… it was… it was a… chair. _

Shaking badly, the raven-haired twelve-year-old slowly came to the realization that she was in the first-mate's cabin aboard the _Black Pearl_. The silvery moonlight that washed in through the window lended itself to the fact that the hour was late, and the silence of the ship proved it.

_The invisible force that had been holding her back-- those were the sheets she was now ensnared in. The darkness of hell-- that was just night-time aboard the _Pearl_. The presence of Mr. Gibbs-- that was just a dream._

One chocolate-eyed child whimpered softly in the darkness and wrapped her small arms around herself, unable to stop the tears. _It had seemed so real…_Her body hurt in all of the places that had broken her fall to the wood floor, a particularly chilly floor that she still sat upon. _It had seemed so real…_Her mind raced, still unable to separate nightmare from reality. _It had seemed so real…_Her entire being shook, racked with muffled sobs and shivers as the freezing sweat dried on her skin. _It had seemed so real…_

It was in that moment that Kelsea Sparrow ceased to be a pirate. The defiance melted away, siphoned from her conscious mind along with confidence and bravery. Where it disappeared to she did not know, but what it came down to was this-- in this lonely, cursed darkness she was only as big as her quaking frame. It was in that moment that Kelsea Sparrow became a twelve-year-old little girl… _a twelve-year-old little girl who needed her daddy_. _Now was not the time to be proud, now was the time to feel safe. Now was not the time to be courageous, now was the time to feel small._

Hiccupping through her tears, Kelsea Sparrow rose to her feet, hugged herself tight, and made for the door. The creaking seemed to her as loud as a pistol shot and she froze on the balls of her feet, but the silence that followed meant that nobody had been disturbed. Out into the hall she went, tip-toeing and hiccupping and shivering… all the way to the huge door that barred the captain's quarters.

Once there, the girl hesitated-- of course she did. For one thing, she knew for a fact that he had a naked woman in there… and for another, for all she knew he was still angry about their duel. She held her small fist up to knock and held it there, still as a statue. However, realizing that not knocking would mean having to return to the haunted setting of Gibbs's old room by herself, the child raised the hand higher and struck the oaken timbers.

It was not a necessarily _loud_ knock-- more of a _tap_, really-- but it seemed to echo just as the creak had. Hiccup. Shiver. Nothing. Taking a shaky breath, Kelsea raised the fist and brought it down again, this time louder. The sound made her jump and still nothing, until…

A soft scuffling could be heard from within, followed by a loud bump, followed by an even louder curse. "We'd better bloody well be under _attack_ 'cause f'yer not about t'be killed by _cannon fire_, yer abou' t'be killed by _me_…" And then the door swung inward violently.

Captain Jack Sparrow stood framed by dim candle-light, dressed only in tattered breeches, peering drowsily out into the dark passage. It was rather apparent that he was not happy about being awoken at some obscene hour of the night, if the sleep-shrouded scowl was anything to go by. He stared around at eye-level in confusion for a moment, before his gaze fell to the small girl cowering in front of him.

"Wha-- _Kelsea--?_" he half-stated/half-questioned, rubbing groggily at his eyes to make sure he was seeing correctly… and he was. For a moment the pirate began working himself up into anger again-- _What was th'whelp bloody doing waking him up at this hour--? _But then he noticed the tears glistening on her cheeks and the fact that her teeth were audibly chattering. The anger went out without a second thought. "Kelsea..?" He knelt down and took her gently by the shoulders, trying to see into her face as she looked floor-ward. The twelve-year-old didn't say anything, feelings of shame beginning to flow through her now that he was there.

Captain Jack sighed and used one weather-rough thumb to wipe away the tears from her cheeks. "Alrigh', Luv… S'alrigh' now… Here, wait a moment," He tapped her gently on the nose, stood and retreated into his bedroom, leaving his daughter standing in the doorway.

From where she was, Kelsea could see that he had returned to the bed and roused the other occupant. The head and shoulders of some anonymous barmaid appeared, and it was clear that said woman was not pleased at the intrusion. Jack leaned over her, spoke words that Kelsea couldn't hear, and pointed towards the door. The wench, whatever her name was, looked positively horrified at whatever the captain had said and apparently tried to argue with him, but inevitably she rose and began angrily collecting her articles.

Kelsea watched as Captain Jack crossed his arms across his bare chest and impassively watched the woman get dressed, saying nothing to the venomous glances she was giving him. When she was finished, she confronted the man and poked him none-too-gently in the chest, holding out a hand… which he promptly tossed a money bag into. Counting the money, the woman seemed at least appeased and turned to go when--

_CRACK!_

The sharp noise reached out into the hall, and seconds later Kelsea Sparrow had to step aside as the Tortugan whore stalked by and Jack could still be seen within holding a hand to his face. Clearly she had slapped him, not that he hadn't deserved it.

And then Jack was at the door again, silently taking the girl's hand and leading her inside where a few candles now lit the room. The door swung closed with a thump and the child visibly cowered at the noise. The captain sighed and beckoned her to the bed where they both took a seat.

"Kelsea…" Jack began softly, his voice a good half-octave lower than normal and still tinged with sleep, "what's the matter, darling?"

"I… I-- M'sorry I ruined yer… yer date…" she stammered, and he laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Shhh… Breathe easy, Luv. Tell ol' Jack what it is that's botherin' ye."

The dark-haired girl wrapped her arms tighter around herself and closed her eyes, the tears starting afresh. "I-it was awful-l… H-he was slipping-g an' I… I couldn' reach… I t-tried… G-goodbye…" Once again it was a warm hand that stopped her from going further.

_He knew who she was talking about, after all… for who else could it be? A man falling that she couldn't save? Aye, t'would be the same man whose name she still mumbled in her sleep. _Not knowing what else to do, Jack began rubbing small circles on his daughter's lower back. "Okay, t'was just a dream, Luv… Jus' a bad dream…"

Kelsea sighed as he had, but this was more along the lines of relief. _She was safe. This was safe. Jack was safe. _She leaned into the touch, into his side, sighing once again.

The pair didn't speak for a while, so Jack kept rubbing. _Maybe she would just go back to sleep_… But that didn't actually seem to be happening and frankly he wanted very badly to go back to sleep himself. Thankfully, another idea sprang to his head and he sat up straighter, taking his hand away from her back.

Glancing up with uncertainty across her tear-stained features, the girl gave him a look that very clearly bespoke of the fact that she wanted him to continue the comforting gesture. Quelling her fears with an easy smile, Jack tipped her chin up the slightest bit.

"I've 'ad another thought," he confided, and she looked at him questioningly.

"W-what's that-t?"

"Would ye like me t'give ye a… a magical charm t'keep th'bad dreams away?"

After getting a small nod, Jack leaned over and picked up his knife from the bedside table. Hanging his head forwards so that he could sort through the many decorations entwined in his dark mane of hair, the captain quickly selected one and cut the lock with a flourish. Holding out his hand for her to see, he nodded his head solemnly.

"This liddle beauty will keep 'em away, Kels, I'd stake me good name on it."

The small girl he was speaking to didn't bother to point out that the name _'Jack Sparrow' _was probably synonymous with _'weasel,'_ instead leaning in to inspect the small silver coin with the hole through the middle that lay in his palm. _It wasn't that she really believed in magical charms, but at this point the fact that he was offering it was more comforting than the coin itself…_

"What m'I s'posed t'do wiv it..?"

"Keep it on yer person at all times, o' course! 'ere, lemme show ye a trick…"

And Jack Sparrow reached over to his small daughter and… began braiding a lock of her hair. His fingers were surprisingly adept at the task, and it was but the work of a moment when he finished it off by working in the coin.

"There. Jus' like mine."

Kelsea reached up and reverently touched the 'dream charm' that was now hanging down at her shoulder. _Just like Jack's._


	16. Birthday Surprises for Both

3:41 AM. A very good morning, I bid to you-- you who are most likely slumbering peacefully in your beds. Another long addition to my story, and I hope you find it fullfilling. Too tired to make any other sort of witty comments at the moment, so I'll leave you to it. Oh, the only note would be that for some reason the 'ruler' function wasn't working as I posted this, but the time lapses should be apparent anyhow. So here's the part where you read, review, rant and generally do what you do.

...TanzFieber

"RISE 'N SHINE, DEARIE!"

Kelsea Sparrow's deep chocolate eyes shot open in alarm, latched onto the flashing gold smile looming just above her, and immediately closed again tightly. "Ughh…" she mumbled, pulling the pillow down over her head.

Captain Jack Sparrow chuckled to himself and bent over his daughter, relieving her of the pillow so that the bright sunshine pooled on her face. "Half th'day gone already, whelp, c'mon! Stir yeself!"

Kelsea rolled over and pulled the blanket over herself with a harrumph. Oh, she knew that he wouldn't leave her alone, but at the time those few more moments of rest seemed worth the struggle-- but then the blanket was also stripped away. "Alrigh', alrigh'!" the dark-haired girl opened her eyes and sat up with an annoyed grimace. "M'up! What d'ye want?"

The pirate captain with the red-bandana and the kohl-lined eyes grinned. "T'see yer lovely face, darling." Secretly he thought that the look shot back in response could have frozen the Caribbean Sea, so he continued on quickly. "An' also I wanted t'be th'first t'say… 'Appy Birthday!"

Now sitting up, the teen cocked an eyebrow at him in mild confusion. "Birthday." she repeated blankly with quite the deadpan stare. "Since when do _I _have a _birthday--?_"

"I would imagine since th'day ye were born, Kelsea, eh?"

She rolled her eyes-- _He really could be quite infuriating when he put his mind to it_. "Oh c'm'off it!" Kelsea chastised him, snatching the pillow back and biffing him with it.

"Ahem," Jack pursed his lips and took a moment to readjust his bandana that had been knocked askew. "Kindly refrain from doin' that, Luv. S'not worth ye getting' beat again." He was referring to the night before…

**APPROPRIATE FLASHBACK…**

"C'mon Dad, would ye stop starin' at that broken thing fer two bloody minutes?" Kelsea was swinging idly back and forth in the usually-unused hammock, her gaze on the hunched back of a certain pirate captain.

Jack didn't respond , merely leaned over and tapped the compass sharply three times. The needle wavered, pivoted left and then… continued spinning. He sighed theatrically before finally glancing over at his swinging daughter. "Not that I would 'spect ye t'know, whelp, but as _Captain, _I am currently undertaking the complex an' infinitely important matter of _steering_ this ship. _Additionally,_ said navigatin' of said vessel relies unyieldingly upon the information that only _this 'broken thing' _can provide. Therefore, 'tis advantageous in fact, t'be starin' at this _'broken thing' _fer as long as necessary." He paused after this soliloquy for dramatic effect before adding that one aggravating line. _"Savvy?"_

The girl rolled her eyes and let her head drop back against the woven hemp of the hammock with an exaggerated groan. "Ohh, well in that case… I'll jus' stay over 'ere an' be quiet an' bored outta me bloody mind whilst ye fiddle endlessly wiv yer beloved _malfunctioning_ compass."

Smirking and shaking his head, Jack Sparrow turned his attention back to the device, which was still having problems making up its enchanted mind. "Good idea, Luv. You do that."

Kelsea didn't answer, and after a few silent moments Jack became suspicious and turned to check what she was doing. As he did, a pillow caught him full in the face and sent his hat spinning. Clutching at the pillow, the pirate slowly lowered it, revealing a dangerous smile. "Now _that_ wasn't very nice," he said softly, getting to his feet and stalking over to where she was hanging. "Shouldn'a done that, darling…"

Sitting up and rolling out of the hammock, the dark-haired teenaged piratess-in-training quickly snatched up another down-filled weapon and took up a fighting stance. She grinned nervously back as he advanced menacingly. "I'll have ye, Cap'n Sparrow!"

"Ye don' want t'be doin' that, mate."

"No, I really think I do!"

And as soon as he was within range, Kelsea swung her feathery weapon in a barn-storming arc straight at her adversary's head. However, Jack saw it coming and blocked it with one hand, slamming her in the unprotected gut with his own pillow at the same time.

"Ooof--!" The air rushed from her lungs and her eyes bugged out in surprise. _Of all of Captain Jack Sparrow's illustrious skills, she hadn't expected _pillow fighting _to be on the list!_

"Keep yer guard up, lass." _God, he was SO annoyingly unpredictable and so annoyingly… annoying! _

She regained her breath and met his incensing smile with her own. "Try it again!"

_He did. She ended up on her back on the bed. _The small pillow war continued on for some immature minutes, and basically consisted of Jack Sparrow giving his teenaged daughter a rather humbling pillow beat-down. Every move that she tried, he was one step ahead and would clock her good in return. Finally, father and daughter collapsed on the bed gasping.

"Bloody Hell…" Kelsea murmured, letting her head fall back on the cool sheets--Her face was red from the exertion and also from the blows she had taken. Jack patted her knee and cracked his knuckles smugly.

"My thoughts exactly, Luv. Perhaps next time ye should cheat, like ye do when we duel-- seems t'work out better fer ye…"

Suddenly the pirate captain found himself flat on his back, lying next to his daughter-- as the girl had just managed to land her first solid blow of their skirmish right across his face.

**BACK TO BIRTHDAYS…**

Kelsea thought about the drubbing she had received the night before, and gamely decided that he was right. Letting the pillow drop back into her lap, Jack noticed this and nodded indulgently.

"That's what I though'."

"Yeah yeah… Jus' tell me what this whole _birthday_ thing is about," she turned to face him again, wondering what on earth he was talking about. _Never before had anyone ever told her 'happy birthday'…_

Jack thought for a moment, twirling his beard in his fingers for a moment, before answering. "Well… 'Tis currently th'dry season!" he reasoned, to which she just raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "So… since I… er… _acquired_ yer lovely self…" the pirate noticed the obvious wince at his choice of words and barreled on hastily. "Any'ow, t'was during th'beginning o' th'wet season an' since Gibbs reckoned ye were nary more'n two months old at th'time, only stands t'reason that yer birthday was _in_ the dry season. T'day seems as good a day as any for a bit o' celebration, eh?"

Kelsea considered his logic and gave him a sideways glance. "Alrigh' then. How _old_ does that make me?"

"Fourteen years t'the blessed day, Luv."

_Fourteen years… Bloody Hell._ This was the general gist of what was running through both of their minds-- neither able to imagine it had been that long. Either way, however, it was the girl who spoke up again.

"So… since it's me birthday… don' that mean I get presents?" she asked hopefully, and Jack rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

"S'pose it does, yes." he racked his mind for a moment before snapping his fingers. "Ah, well since we're due t'drop anchor in Tortuga this very day, why don' we go ashore an' ye can pick out whatever takes yer fancy, eh?"

Kelsea smiled up at her father, gratitude and affection shining in her dark eyes. "I like it-- Simple 'n easy t'remember. Sounds like a fair plan t'me, Cap'n!"

**RIDING AT ANCHOR IN TORTUGA…**

Jack Sparrow stood at the helm of the _Black Pearl_, an agitated look upon his normally taciturn features. The thing was, Marty the dwarf had just announced that there were soldiers of the Royal Navy combing the port for him-- which of course made it generally impossible to go ashore. He sighed, knowing that he would have to call off the birthday excursion that he had promised his teenaged daughter. _What would he tell her? Well, the truth would probably be best--_

"All present n' accounted for an' ready t'go, Cap'n Sparrow!" Kelsea, who had just come up onto the deck, snapped her heels together and saluted smartly. The smile upon her bright face immediately faded though, as she laid eyes on Jack's expression. "Oh… we're um. We're not goin', are we." It was more of a statement than a question.

Jack sighed, but shook his head no. "Lissen, Kels… S'not that I don' _want _t'go wiv ye, but I've jus' been told that there're soldiers in Tortuga lookin' fer yours truly…"

"An' ye don' want t'be hanged, I know." the girl finished his sentence, and as he nodded, she only gave him a half-smile. "Don' worry about it, I'd feel bad if ye got lynched on account o' me."

The pirate captain put a hand on her shoulder, grateful for her understanding. "Aye. Well, 'ow about this, then: th'redcoats don' know _you, _so ye can go ashore an' get whatever it is yer pretty heart desires." he tossed her a jingling pouch of gold. "Savvy?"

Secretly Kelsea wished that he were going with her, but grinned and nodded all the same. "Aye aye, Cap'n!" She turned to make her way off of the ship when he called after her.

"Kels--!"

"Hm?"

"I… Er…" Jack stammered, wanting to tell his daughter to be careful, but not wanting to seem like a paranoid mother hen. "Well, jus'… Keep a weather eye, lass."

She smiled and saluted again before continuing on. "On me oath, Dad!"

Jack's grip tightened a bit on the helm of the _Pearl_ as he watched the tawny frame of his fourteen-year-old daughter grow smaller as she traversed the long pier. _Oh, it most definitely wasn't _nervousness _that was clenching his stomach like that… It wasn't fear or worry or anything weak at all. No, no, it must have been that he hadn't had his daily breakfast of rum-- yes, that was it._

­­­­­­­

Still, whatever the reason was, there was no denying the uncomfortable feeling that lay in the stomach of Captain Sparrow. _He hadn't told her what time to return--! Well, she was an intelligent lass, no need to worry. No need to worry. No need to worry…_

_­­_

**FROM ANOTHER POINT OF VIEW…**

Meanwhile, Kelsea Sparrow was traipsing brightly through the bustling streets of Tortuga, taking in everything around her through wide eyes. Leaping agilely to the side as a brawl went roiling by her, the girl surveyed the surrounding chaos. _Men everywhere were drunk, sleeping, fighting or chasing women… and yet even the fighting ones seemed generally happy! _Tortuga was rank with unsavory happenings, and yet possibly the gayest location the girl had ever encountered. _What a FANTASTIC place!_

The teenaged piratess breathed deep of the rum and sweat-soaked air, and smiled. _Yes, it was safe to say that the daughter of Captain Jack Sparrow's first impression of the buccaneer port was quite the favorable one. _

She spent her first hour or so picking her way carefully through the pulsating masses, absorbing everything around her-- the sights, the sounds, and the smells. However, it did seem that one could only be enraptured by so many brawls, or so many drunken shanties, so it wasn't too long that the pouch of gold in her pocket began yearning to be spent.

_Just what would she buy..? _Kelsea wondered, knowing full well that she had more money than most strapped to her belt. Just to make sure, she ducked into an alleyway to count it-- and her expressive eyes grew even wider as doubloon after doubloon clinked out into her small palm. _She could buy the whole port! Well… maybe not the WHOLE port…_ she reconsidered after a moment, _but she COULD buy whatever trinket caught her eye. _Despite the fact that she had never purchased anything in her life, the girl knew that having gold coins to pay with would certainly help her bargaining power. So, after carefully retying the pouch into her sash, she re-entered the flow of people towards what seemed to be a marketplace.

_Necklaces, toys, candies, swords…_Each item looked more appealing than the last, but Kelsea Sparrow thought of a reason that none was the appropriate birthday present. _Necklaces were pretty enough, but would never be worn for fear of being lost overboard; toys were fun, but she would never have time to play with them between duties; candies were short-lived; and swords… well, she already had a perfectly good sword that meant more than one from a random stall would. _And so she pressed on, eyes roving over the merchandise of each stand in search of the perfect gift.

**POSSIBLY _FOREVER _LATER…**

_How many stalls full of dresses and bracelets could there be--? _Kelsea rolled her eyes as she passed yet another merchant extolling the virtues of silk gowns. _Bloody Hell, she had been walking for HOURS it seemed…_She glanced up at the sun and did her best to judge the hour. _Yep, just as she had suspected, the sun was well past its zenith and currently was beginning to dip towards the horizon…__Clearly she had been trudging around that bleeding marketplace for the entire afternoon. _

_And yet, nothing seemed fitting. _She had seen what she assumed to be _every single _type of trinket there could _ever _be in the _entire _world-- to no avail. _Ugh, her feet were beginning to hurt after all of the walking, especially since she was far more accustomed to walking on a ship's rolling deck than on the land_. The dark-haired girl stopped for a moment to catch her breath, and realized with dismay that if she didn't find something soon, she would have to return to the _Pearl _empty handed. Thoroughly unhappy about that particular prospect and having found herself at the end of the street, she plopped herself down on an empty crate that sat off to one side. _What would she tell Cap'n Jack, who would surely be wanting to see her newest purchase..?_

"An' what kin I be doin' fer a young lassie such as yerself t'day, eh?"

Kelsea jumped at the grating voice that sounded just to her right, and jerked her head around. She found herself looking up at a particularly ancient, rat-faced character who was leaning against a crudely constructed counter of sorts. _Apparently this was some sort of shop, although much less refined than the rest… being at the run-down end of the street. _

"Oh, m'sorry sir… jus' wanted t'rest fer a moment… didn' mean t'intrude…" she apologized quickly, making to get up. However, a surprisingly strong hand clapped down on her shoulder before she could move.

"Arr, what be th'rush, missie? M'sure we could find somfin t'suit ye… Welcome t'_Tristan's Tattoos! _I be Tristan, at yer service."

Whereas she had previously been working out away to break his pincer-like grip, Kelsea immediately perked up at his words. _Tattoos..? _Her mind's eye immediately latched onto one of her favorite images… the sparrow that graced her father's right forearm.

Many was the time when she would absently trace her fingers over the simplistic, yet beautiful design as Jack told her some probably fabricated legend that always involved himself as the hero… and now, the solution to her birthday problems seemed clear: _she would use the money to get the sparrow tattoo! Now… how to ask about it?_

"Mr. Tristan, sir… ye make… tattoos?" She asked tentatively, glancing over at the various instruments that were strewn across his rickety table. The old piratey man smiled a mostly toothless smile and waved a gnarled hand with flourish.

"Aye, lassie, that I do. Well, _craft _'em is more like it… Tattoos is an art, after all, an' I, Tristan, be yer artiste!" he leaned closer, breathing rummy breath into her face.

Trying not to wrinkle her nose, Kelsea Sparrow stood her ground. "Alrigh', well jus' so happens that I know of a picture that I'd like right 'ere…" she indicated her right forearm, just above the wrist.

"Well I'll be needin' ye t'draw it out fer me, then… So I knows what it is ye be wantin'!" The man called Tristan rummaged around in his things for a moment before producing a scrap of paper and a nub of charcoal. Taking the implements from him, the girl closed her eyes and pictured her father's tattoo before beginning to draw.

The image she ended up with was pitifully done at best, for she had never been much with drawings, but the man's eyes lit up as soon as he set eyes upon the crudely sketched bird in the arc.

"Avast--! I remembers every one I ever inked, an' _that _one… _That _one was somfin special, mark me words-- _Jack Sparrow's tattoo!" _He grabbed the piece of paper and examined it closer, before casting an eye over the girl who had drawn it. "What be this tattoo to a young lass like yerself, an' how is it ye know exactly how t'was done?"

Realizing that _this _would certainly not be the _opportune moment _to reveal that the reason she wants said tattoo is to be just like her daddy, in true pirate fashion Kelsea quickly invented an excuse. "Well I read a book once wiv that tattoo in it… an' me name means _'Little Sparrow' _as I've been told… so I thought this one would be… er… pretty." She nearly laughed aloud at the thought of what Jack's reaction would be if he ever heard her call his tattoo _pretty_, but managed to hold her tongue.

Tristan contemplated her reasoning for a moment before shrugging. "Alrigh' lass, s'long as ye've got th'gold t'pay…"

The girl quickly jingled her pouch of money, and the man chuckled.

"'Tis settled, then! Step inta me shop, missie, an' sit yerself down!" Before she could, however, he gave her a hard look. "I'll give fair warnin' though… 'tis not a pleasant thing, gettin' tattooed. Mayhaps ye should consider th'pain involved, bein' a liddle lass, an' all…"

Fourteen-year-old Kelsea hesitated for a moment, her eyes racing over the non-sterile and dangerously sharp looking implements on the table, before resolutely steeling herself. _She was going to do it, no matter what!_ Taking a deep breath, the girl sidled back over to where the crate was and sat down, carefully rolling up her sleeve. "Jus' do it, mate!"

**JUST AS THE SUN SETS…**

_Bloody Hell an' fer th'love of th'virgin mother--! _Kelsea Sparrow was chewing at the inside of her cheek as she walked doggedly on, trying desperately not to think of the words _searing _and _flesh _and _raw_. However, the more she tried to ignore the pain, the worse it seemed to get-- _her right forearm was on fire!_

Tristan had definitely not been exaggerating when he had mentioned that getting a tattoo was a painful process… in fact, he had drastically _underplayed _the side-effects of his art. The raven-haired teen glanced down at her wrist, and groaned inwardly but at the same time felt grim satisfaction. _The skin was a bit swollen and red, yes, but also there was a perfect replica of a certain bird dipping it's wing in the waves-- The Jack Sparrow tattoo._

_CLANG! CLANG! CLANGGG!_

The sound of the _Black Pearl's _bell rang out clearly through the Caribbean evening, and Kelsea's heart jumped into her throat as she heard it.

_Damn it all t'the depths, what TIME was it--? _The redness to the sun indicated that the day was almost out, and also that she was late in her return to the ship. _Bugger, Jack would certainly not be happy… _With nothing else for it, the girl pushed all pain and tiredness from her mind and began to run haphazardly down to the docks.

**ABOARD THE _PEARL…_**

Captain Jack Sparrow stood at the railing of his ship, one hand up to shield his eyes against the crimsoning sunlight that sparkled across the waters of the harbor. _Where WAS she--? _He thought, worry rising in the back of his throat so that he could taste it. _True, he hadn't told her exactly when to be back, but surely if she was alright she would be back before dark, or at least when she heard the bell--? _Kohl-lined eyes carefully scanned the docks for the familiar figure, but so far to no avail. _What if the worst had happened--? _

All of the crew-members of the _Pearl _filtered aboard, some in better shape than others, except for one small girl. The captain asked each of them if the had seen her, but every man shook his head. Just as Jack was about to throw his caution about the Navy to the wind and disembark to look for his daughter, Marty threw up a shout.

"There she be, Cap'n!"

Jack whirled around wildly to look, and felt relief physically course through his body as his eyes fell upon the form of a girl jogging along the pier towards them. _Kelsea. Thank God she was safe…_ As she got closer, however, the assured smile became a scowl. _How dare she worry him like that!_

For her part, the previously missing girl was panting as she finally made her way up the gangplank. _She knew she was in for a good scolding, but at this point was far too tired and in too much pain to care. _"All present an' accounted for, Cap'n Sparrow…" she managed to gasp out, bending to get her wind back. "Apologies fer keepin' ye waitin'…"

Overcome by the urge to both berate and hug his daughter all at the same time, the pirate captain settled for staring down at her frostily. "Ye kept th'entire crew waitin', whelp!" he accused, and she nodded in reluctant agreement.

"Aye, Cap'n."

"Ye made us miss th'evenin' tide!"

"Aye Cap'n."

"Ye could've been th'cause of me capture, had th'Navy decided t'poke 'round!"

"Aye Cap'n."

Each bombardment was met with the same resigned answer, and finally, Jack just sighed and shook his head. By the sight of her, the girl was apologetic, and he didn't _really _have any more reason to be upset now that she was back. _Besides, _he reasoned, _it was her birthday, he could afford to be lenient._ "Alrigh' well… Why don' ye tell me why yer so late, eh? What was it ye got fer a present?"

Keslea glanced up at her father with a tentative smile. _Could he really be letting it go so easily..? _The easy glance she got in return only confirmed her hopes, and the grin widened. _She couldn't wait to show him-- he'd be so surprised!_

"Well… couldn' find anythin' fer most o' th'day…" She began, reaching down to re-roll the sleeve that had come down during her jog to the ship. "But then I ended up meetin' this man named Tristan… an' he offered t'give me this--" the girl finished pulling up the fabric and proudly pointed out the still red-tinged image that was engrained in the skin. "Jus' like yers, Dad!"

Jack froze as his eyes fell upon the design. _The… the Sparrow tattoo… on her arm… clear as day… _He reached out and took hold of her wrist, wordlessly drawing closer to examine the mark. _She had… The same as his own… _His mind whirled, unable to latch onto a thought.

_On the one hand, there was some sort of fierce pride in this new thing that linked them together… but a much stronger emotion was that of uneasiness. This tattoo… it sealed her identiy-- not only as his daughter, but as a pirate. Could he live with the knowledge that pillaging was to be her life--? Sure, it was HIS existence of choice and he knew that she enjoyed it… but that didn't mean he wanted the same hardship and pain and danger for his little girl…_

"Daddy… Say somethin'..?" It wasn't very often that the teen called him that, especially since she was now coming into her own, so the title snapped him from his thoughts.

"Ye… ye've… Kelsea Sparrow, are ye _out_ of yer bloody _mind--?_" Jack hissed, and of all the reactions she had been expecting, this certainly wasn't one of them.

"W-wha--?"

"D'ye know what ye've _done? _Ye've _permanently_ marked yerself as a bloody _pirate!_ Those don' come off, whelp! I though' ye had more sense in yer head 'n that!" he ranted, waving his arms about in agitation.

Kelsea cowered back, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks as she roughly pulled her sleeve back down, hiding what she had done. The skin was still very tender and it stung horribly. "I-- I… I thought…"

"No, ye _DIDN'T_ think! How could ye do somethin' so bloody daft--? I tol' ye t'get a _trinket_, not a bloody _brand_! Fer th'love of mercy, Kelsea… Ye've really done it this time…" Jack Sparrow by this point had become flustered to the point of no longer being able to coherently form sentences. _How could she do something like that..? _Shaking with shock and anger and worry, the pirate captain could think of nothing else to do besides that which he normally did under such circumstances-- he turned on his heel and stalked off the deck to his cabin.

Confused and upset, the birthday girl stood rooted to the spot, her arm burning like the fires of hell and her stomach twisted into knots. _What had she done that was so wrong..? She had only wanted to be like him… to wear the Sparrow tattoo… the one just like Jack's._


	17. Mutinous

Quarter 'till five in the morning-- I really must be mad. And to think that I fully intended to make this chapter longer. HAH. This one is of middling length, thank goodness I managed to find a place to cut it off. Blatant cliff-hanger, so my apologies for that, but as usual it won't be too long before you recieve an update. Try reviewing, it may speed the process. OH, and one more thing: the idea that I am introducing here and carrying out in the next segment is duly credited to **Pookie Power 2005**. Thanks for the idea, and if any of you have more suggestions or requests for plot twists, I am very open to them. _Stretch yawn... _GOODNIGHT!

TanzFieber..._  
_

_The Sparrow tattoo caused quite the uproar, to be sure-- Jack upset because he didn't want her labeled as a pirate; and Kelsea upset because she thought he didn't want her labeled as his daughter. All in all, it was a messy situation, but one that worked itself out eventually the way all other feuds between the two always had. When it came down to it, the girl would miss her father and the pirate would miss his daughter. They cared about each other, whether it was admitted or not, and that was always enough… Until one foggy Caribbean day when all was put to test. In a way Jack was right-- if it weren't for that bloody tattoo these particular complications never would have arisen…_

**AFORE-MENTIONED FOGGY CARIBBEAN DAY…**

"Unnatural fog, this, eh Cap'n?" Duncan stood at the helm of the _Black Pearl _and glanced over towards the railing where a certain dread-locked pirate stood staring out into the mist.

Jack Sparrow flipped up the collar of his coat against the chilly damp that closed in around his beloved ship. He replied, if only to ward off the encroaching silence. "Aye, mate."

Both men listened to the eerie sound of water lapping against the hull of the _Pearl_ and the creaking of the rudder for a few moments before the captain spoke again. "Well, s'no use tryin' t'see through it, so keep t'this course until we're clear of th'clouds, Savvy?"

"Aye, Sir."

And with that, the captain of the ship took his leave of the foc'sle and strode across the deck towards his cabin. He yawned-- it _was _late, after all. Stumbling just a bit over a piece of rope, Jack reached the door to his quarters and pushed it open with a relieved sigh.

A lamp still burned dimly, throwing a tall shadow against the wall as he relieved himself of his coat, hat, sword, and other effects. The pirate stretched and yawned once more, noticing finally as he did that there were all manner of charts spread out upon the desk-- Clearly the _whelp_ had gotten bored again.

_She had been doing that lately, rifling through his papers on rainy days and pretending that she could read them…Bloody fake. _Jack rolled his eyes and a wry grin found it's way to his face. _He knew she couldn't make head or tails of the maps and grids, especially since he hadn't gotten around to showing her what to do with them. Still, that didn't stop the girl from pouring over them and playing with the instruments and drawing little-- _A chuckle tore its way from the captain's mouth as he noticed a sea-monster doodle in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. _Yep, the whelp had definitely been 'navigating' again. Speaking of…_

Jack, now stripped down to a loose shirt and breeches, turned towards the bed at the sound of a squeaky snore. He blew out the candle, waited for his eyes to adjust a bit, and tread bare-foot over to the bunk.

The teenaged Kelsea Sparrow was growing into a raven-haired spitfire that even her father had to admit was quite the pretty one… but, that being said, _sleeping _was definitely not her most _attractive_ state. _Torso on the bed and one foot in the hammock, mouth open and drooling in the slightest, hair rumpled and snoring lightly…_Jack shook his head and set about rearranging his daughter's sprawled out form so that he could have a small area in which to sleep.

"Mmph… C'mon lass, move over jus' a bit--OOF--!" A foot caught him in the gut as she rolled over and continued to snore, slightly louder now. He made a face and tried again, only to find himself barely ducking a swinging fist. _The Hell with it, he'd sleep in the bloody hammock!_

Stretching one more time before rolling into the last resort sleeping berth, Jack Sparrow readjusted a pillow beneath his head and allowed his mind to mull over everything that he usually pushed aside. Turning slightly, he caught sight of just one of the things that had been plaguing his thoughts lately-- the tattoo on his daughter's forearm.

_Illuminated in the moonlight, the pirate did have to marvel at the similarity of said image to the one on his own person. Not only that, but he also had to admit that looking at it made his heart swell with pride that Kelsea wanted to identify herself as a Sparrow by wearing the same tattoo. And yet… there was something that STILL bothered him about it. Something in his gut that told him it would lead to trouble; that it was a harbinger of doom…_

"Harbinger of doom? Did ye really just _think _that?" He mumbled aloud to himself, reaching to the nightstand for his hat. _Cripes, he was beginning to sound like Gibbs. 'BAD LUCK T'HAVE A WOMAN ON BOARD-- ESPECIALLY WIV A TATTOO!' _Rolling his eyes once more to the ceiling, Jack snorted and dropped the tri-corne over his eyes. Sleep came on swift wings for once, and for that he was grateful.

**MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT-ISH…**

One minute peace; the very next the quiet Caribbean night was shattered.

_WHISTLE. BANG._

The _Black Pearl_ and all of its slumbering inhabitants were shaken by the terrible jolting that could only mean one thing-- cannon fire!

Jack Sparrow himself was pitched from the hammock and landed on top of the occupant of his bunk. Dark-haired head connected with dark-haired head with a meaty thud and stars exploded in front of two pairs of dark eyes.

"OUCH--!" Came the simultaneous groan, and Kelsea Sparrow sat up violently, tangled in bedclothes and pirate captain. "What the--?"

_WHISTLE. BANG._

Both captain and girl were thrown from the bed, where they remained entwined on the floor. _Flounder. Confusion. Curse. _Frankly, it was hard to tell where father ended and daughter began.

"C-cap'n… What's happening?"

Jack staggered to his feet at last, rubbing at his head and looking for the rest of his clothing. "We're bloody _under attack_, what's it seem like--!" He pulled on his coat and groped for his hat, still trying to adjust to the darkness. . _Flounder. Confusion. Curse._

Caught up in the panicky moment, Kelsea too scrambled to her feet and began dressing herself. Pulling on leather boots and grabbing her jacket. _Flounder. Confusion. Curse. _The two stumbled around without any more conversation, and it wasn't until the girl had started buckling on her sword belt that Jack finally rounded on her harshly.

"Whaddye think yer doin'?"

Kelsea looked at him incredulously, yells of the _Pearl's _crew ringing in her ears. "Puttin' on me sword, Cap'n!"

The dread-locked pirate took her by the shoulders and sat her none-too-gently on the bed. "Kelsea Sparrow, yer t'stay here an' barricade th'door. That's an order!"

"But Dad--!"

"An _ORDER _Kelsea, ye hear me?" His dark eyes bored into her own and the vice grip he had on her upper arms was beginning to hurt. Staring back defiantly, the girl was disheartened to realize that there would be no fighting him on this one.

"Aye, Cap'n Sparrow." She said finally, and he gave her one more uncomfortable squeeze and hard glance before nodding, letting go and striding to the door.

**BATTLE TIME…**

_The event of becoming fully engaged with another ship wasn't nearly as common an occurrence as one might think. Sure, they were scurvy cutthroats and the Black Pearl was certainly a pirate ship-- but usually reputation or the element of surprise was enough to ensure bloodless victory. Besides, feared pirate captain he might have been, but every man who personally knew Jack Sparrow knew that he was no heartless murderer. He tried to tell them that he was, but frankly all evidence to the contrary. In fact, many thought that the merciful attitude would inevitably be his downfall. Anyway, the point was, the Pearl was under attack and mayhem broke out in the dark fog._

Jack's grip on his sword was presently precarious-- dampness causing his fingers to slip a bit every time the blade rang against that of an enemy. The men who were doing the attacking were of some nameless other pirate ship, and it didn't really matter which. They were in it for plunder and for the infamy of besting the legendary _Black Pearl. _Jack gritted his teeth and battled gamely on, shouting orders from time to time.

"LOAD TH'CANNONS! CUT DOWN THOSE GRAPNELS! HOLD 'EM, MEN! SEND EVERY LAS' ONE T'THE LOCKER!"

Things were going as might be expected-- men on both sides falling transfixed by cutlasses-- and the battle seemed ready to swing either way… until a certain fourteen-year-old became _curious_.

Kelsea Sparrow stood on the bed, trying to see what was happening through the fogged-up porthole. She could hear the shouting and the screams and the cannons and the metallic clashing of weaponry, but could see nothing aside from the occasional flash of light from a gun. Hopping down to the floor, the girl groaned aloud in tense frustration at her plight.

_Locked in the bedroom whilst her crewmen fought a vicious battle--? Where was the justice in that?_

She paced around the room, listening intently to the sounds of chaos that were only slightly muffled by the door.

_She should be out there alongside the men that had become her family… beside her father… fighting for a ship she loved just as dearly as the rest of them. It wasn't fair that she had been forbidden to take part in the action! Well, she would just have to ignore a certain man's orders and take part anyway-- she'd show him that she didn't need to be treated like a child!_

Her fighting spirit aroused, Kelsea decided that that was exactly what she would do-- sneak out of the room and join the melee. She buckled on her sword, took a deep breath and crept towards the door. Grunting with the effort, she managed to push the desk-barricade out of the way and after a moment's pause pushed the oaken portal open.

Men danced this way and that, locked in combat to the death. Ducking a stray dagger that came whistling through the air and embedded itself in the wall beside her head, the dark-haired teen tried to locate her father in all of the pandemonium.

"ENOUGH WIV TH'SHOOTING! STOP BLOWIN' HOLES IN MY SHIP!" The familiar indignant cry rang out, and Kelsea whipped her head around towards the source of the noise.

Captain Jack Sparrow was up near the helm and fighting like a tiger. Just as she was about to try to make her way towards him, however, a rough hand clamped down on her shoulder.

"'Ello, what's this?" Kelsea squirmed around and found herself staring up into the scarred face of an enemy pirate. He laughed wickedly as she tried to wriggle free, his fingers digging painfully into her arm. "A pretty liddle wench, eh? Z'at hurt? I could teach ye th'meanin' o' pain, lassie…" He twisted her wrist around so hard that she let out a pained yelp.

"Leggo--!" Panicked at the revelation that he was dragging her forwards, the girl began fighting for what she could only assume was her life. Kicking, punching and biting, she seemed only able to amuse her tormentor.

"Aye, you fight, girl… makes it better!" He began tearing at her clothing, covering her mouth with one hand as she tried to scream for Jack-- giving her the opportunity she needed.

Kelsea bit down savagely on her captor's hand, causing him to yell and release her momentarily. It was all she needed. Instinctively, as soon as her arms were free, the girl drew her sword and barely got it up in time before he lunged at her in crazed anger.

All in all, the first time that Kelsea Sparrow ever killed a man was more of an accident than anything else. He lurched forward, arms out, and tripped-- the momentum of his heavy frame pitching forwards onto the winter-keen blade of her sword was enough to do the rest. The girl staggered backwards, feeling blood spatter her face as the nameless pirate collapsed nearly on top of her, stone dead.

"Mother 'o God…" She whispered, the sounds of battle becoming far away as she gazed in shock at her blood covered hands. _He had been going to kill her or God only knew what else… _That she knew, but she hadn't meant to kill _him_--! However, the terrible disbelief didn't last very long because suddenly there was a new issue.

Cold clammy hands wrapped around her throat, choking off the air supply. As she had stood there frozen, another man had taken notice and crept up on her.

"What's a pretty thin' like yew doin' on a pirate ship?" His voice was frighteningly soft, dangerous in it's rasp. Kelsea clawed at his hands, desperate for a breath as panic welled up within her. As she did, he grabbed her already wrist and pulled it closer to his face. "Well well… What've we 'ere, eh? Tattoo th'same as Jack Sparrow's!" Slow thought seemed to creep over the pirate's face, and suddenly he broke into the wickedest grin the girl had ever seen. "Chances be that makes ye important t'the captain… Levrage, as it were! Oi, lassie, yer comin' wiv me!"

Still struggling for breath, the fourteen-year-old girl was no match for the burly arms of her captor that wrapped around her torso and began hauling her towards planks that led to the attacking ship. Kicks getting feebler by the moment, Kelsea fought for her life to no avail. The only thing she could do was scream-- something most likely useless with all of the noise going on between the cannon-fire and sword fighting.

"HELP! SOMEBODY! DADDYYYYY--!" her cries were then cut off as a dirty handkerchief was thrust into her mouth. She choked and spluttered, effectively gagged.

"Stow th'noise, wretch! Ain't nobody comin' t'yer rescue now!" The scarred buccaneer grabbed her by the hair and began dragging the girl across to the other ship.

However, both he and the girl were incorrect in their assumption that her shouting was in vain. Jack Sparrow jerked his head up at the sound of a girl's cries, and his eyes frantically searched for where it had come from. Dancing nimbly to the side as an adversary lunged at him, the captain pushed the man overboard in one quick motion.

_Where was Kelsea--? Wasn't she in his quarters--? But he was SURE he had heard her screams… _

And then his heart-stopped as he saw it-- a man yanking his young daughter down into the hold of the enemy ship. He could see the pain and fear on her face, the malice in his. It was at that precise moment that Jack Sparrow became filled with a blood-lust and sprang into action.

"KELS--! HANG ON, M'COMIN'!" He grabbed another sword from a fallen pirate and began hacking his way through the roiling masses to reach his captured child. No man was a match for Jack Sparrow at that moment, rage and worry pumped through his veins like fire-- he was a man possessed.

_Everything else in the world ceased to matter-- the battle around him, the well-being of his ship, any injuries sustained… his daughter was the only thing of importance. He HAD to get to her… if she was hurt… if she was-- _He couldn't even handle the thought. _Well, if anything happened to the girl he wouldn't be able to live with himself. _

Those thoughts lodged firmly in his mind, Jack reached the railing in an impossibly short span with two blades swinging. Grabbing a rope, and clenching one sword in his teeth and thrusting the other into his sash, the pirate captain swung across the gap and landed on the deck of the other ship.

Meanwhile, Kelsea had managed to stomp down on the scarred man's foot, but all it gained her was a glancing slap across the face.

"Ye liddle brat-- ye'll pay fer that!"

She could feel blood start to trickle from her nose, and closed her eyes tightly as he raised a hand again-- but the blow never fell. Instead, there was a strangled grunt and a thump. Kelsea opened her eyes and found herself looking down at another dying man. Standing at her side, face a frightening mask of cold fury, was Captain Jack Sparrow.

"D-dad… I… Cap'n Sparrow…" She tried timidly, but he didn't answer.

He gazed down at the man he had just dispatched, hands shaking and breath coming in short bursts. _Never in his entire life, had Jack been so shaken_. Wordlessly, he swept his daughter up into his arms and stalked back over to the _Black Pearl_.

**AFTERMATH…**

The battle raged for an hour or so more, and as statistics would predict, the men of the _Pearl_ came out the victors. When the Sparrows had returned to their ship, Jack had unceremoniously shut Kelsea back in the captain's cabin and gone back to fighting. He hadn't said anything to her yet, and frankly she didn't press the issue. It was as a ragged '_huzzah!' _rang out that the girl opened the heavy door and peered out.

The sun was peeking over the horizon, and the fog seemed to have finally dissipated. The scene that met the eyes of one young raven-haired girl was bleak in the morning light-- bodies scattered across blood-stained decks and smoke rising lazily from parts of the _Pearl_ that had caught fire. There was not a breath of wind.

Kelsea crept slowly out of the room, her heart sinking as she saw the amount of damage that the ship had taken. There was debris strewn everywhere that she had to consciously step over. None of the crew said anything as she walked past-- all had seen what had happened with the captain and those who hadn't had heard about it. Besides that, they knew something that she didn't yet…

Jack stood up on the foc'sle, sword held loosely at his side, face blank as he stared straight ahead. The girl sidled up beside him and touched his hand. He flinched but didn't take any other notice of her, and suddenly she realized what it was he was looking at--

The helm of the _Black Pearl _was completely and utterly destroyed. The ship's wheel was smashed to splinters and the rudder chain obviously disabled. _Jack's love… his ship… the wood he had run his fingers lovingly over as he steered for the horizon… it was shattered. _Kelsea sucked in a breath as Jack reached out and brushed a hand over the shattered dark wood as tenderly as a father caring for his injured daughter. _Speaking of which…_

"Kelsea Sparrow." his voice came out dangerously soft and she flinched. _This was not going to be good._

"Y-yes..?"

And then he rounded on her, the angst apparent in his face. "Satisfied now? I tol' ye t'stay. In. The. Cabin." his words were clipped and broken, she winced. "Ye deliberately disobeyed my orders an' yer lack of judgement caused… well… _this_!" Jack flapped his hand violently towards the wreckage, anger causing his voice to rise. _Wait-- strike anger. He was beyond angry. This was furious_. All of the emotions he had been feeling-- worry, fear and anger-- were about to come boiling to a head.

For her part, Kelsea hung her head miserably. _He was right_, she knew. _He had told her to stay inside, and she had gone against his wishes on purpose. He had known that she would be a liability in action. He had known that the tattoo would be like a beacon for enemies. He had known all of this and he had told her… but she hadn't listened. _The teen swallowed hard. _It was all her bloody fault-- if she hadn't been captured he would have been at the helm and the _Pearl _would still be intact._

When Jack spoke again, she jumped. "Mutiny."

"Wha--?"

"'Tis an act of mutiny. Ye _disobeyed_ yer captain's _orders_, girl, an' if ye consider yerself a part o' this crew ye'll take yer punishment."

Kelsea's eyes widened. _Had he just said what she thought he said..? Punished--?_

"DUNCAN!" Jack roared suddenly, and the man mentioned came running.

"Cap'n!" he threw a salute, afraid of the volatile mood swings of his captain.

"Miss Sparrow has committed a form of mutiny. See to it that it won't happen again."

"Sir..?" Duncan clearly didn't know what he meant.

"_Five lashes._"

And everybody froze.


	18. How Could You

I must apologize, first and foremost, for the fact that this chapter is being posted on the 24th of August at 1:58 AM. The fact is, it should have been posted last night and you must know that it was done for said deadline. The excuse given is that my internet was being retarded and would not let me post, but the truth is that there should be no excuse. This chapter, at any rate, is dedicated to **crunchcheezit** in light of the fact that it was her birthday on tuesday-- Happy Birthday, sweetums. That being said, apologies for this one being a bit on the short side. The only reason is that the next idea is far too long to have attached to this one. I shall do my level best to get that next thought up in a timely fashion, but you all should be aware of the fact that I have just returned to school and am going to be rather busy for a time. Like I said, I'll try to be fastidious about updating, but no promises then, eh? Love to you all and thanks again to **pookie power 2005** for this brainchild...

...TanzFieber

Kelsea Sparrow stood quite still and blinked. She didn't say anything; just blinked. The crew of the _Black Pearl _stood quite still and blinked. They didn't say anything; just blinked.

Jack Sparrow stared around at his statue-like men expectantly, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly. The stillness went on for a few moments, before the captain broke it with another barking command. "Duncan!" he repeated, and the man in question saluted sharply and snapped his heels together in attention.

"Sir!"

"Did ye not hear me th'firs' time, then." It was more of a statement than a question, and dangerously rhetorical at that. Every man there had _heard_ the order, it was just that none of them could believe their ears.

_Five lashes--? For Kelsea--? As in… his DAUGHTER Kelsea--? _True they had rarely seen the captain so enraged, but this was far even for _Jack Sparrow's_ volatile personality. However, the man did not seem about to back down and the choking silence stretched out even further as the singled-out crewman appeared to try to make himself part of the deck—to no avail.

Jack strode/stomped down into the hold, and appeared a few moments later with a coiled black leather lash. Dust that still clung to the fearsome instrument for the fact that it was point blank _never _used, floated off into space as the captain threw it to a very uneasy Duncan.

"I'll not repeat it again." _Dangerously soft. Dark eyes flashing._

Meanwhile, fourteen-year-old Kelsea was having trouble grasping the situation. _Sure, she knew that she had made a major mistake… but was her father really about to have her whipped--? _She didn't want to believe it; couldn't believe it… but suddenly there was the whip and her throat stopped working properly. If her eyes weren't deceiving her, _and although she wished they were they weren't,_ Duncan was now standing clutching at the lash with wide eyes as Jack stared him down.

"C-cap'n… All due respec' but…" The man tried, knowing in his heart that he would not be able to lay hands on the girl—but the mood Jack Sparrow was in was perilous indeed and certainly not one to be toyed with.

"But what. Let's put it this way: if ye choose t'throw in yer lot wiv a mutineer ye'll be twice-whipped yerself an' then have t'watch some other man do th'job anyway.." _Dangerously soft. Dark eyes flashing._

The same thought was going around at this point—_What the bloody Hell was the captain thinking--?_ And the truth of the matter was simple: he _wasn't _thinking. Jack Sparrow had, in his infinite agitation, finally managed to block out those pesky things called feelings. Now, he was impervious to the disbelieving stares and capable of just about anything. _There weren't rumors about Jack Sparrow's madness for nothing._

And yet, the pirate Duncan was still shaking his head slowly. His hands may have been quaking, but his resolve was not—he could see the fear in Kelsea's eyes and would not harm a child for something that he knew was an accident. Unfortunately, the captain's threat was still hanging in the air and the silence settled again until—

"Alrigh', suit yerself, then." _Dangerously soft. Dark eyes flashing. _Striding over, Jack jerked the whip from the other man's nerveless grasp and raised it high as the other man braced himself and the crew looked away—

"WAIT—STOPPIT!" The cry rang out and everyone froze once again as the slight form of Kelsea Sparrow flung herself forward and grabbed Jack's arm. "Leave 'im alone, he didn' do anything!"

The raven-haired teenager stared defiantly at Jack, realizing that he was beyond reason. The thought of having strips of skin torn from her back was a frightening notion indeed, but she knew that she could not stand for watching somebody else whipped in her place. Therefore, it was a shaking but steadfast Kelsea Sparrow who jerked the lash from her pirate father's hands and turned back to Duncan.

"Jus' do what he says…" she whispered to her old friend, pressing the weapon back into his grip. However, the man could only stare incredulously.

"No, Miss Kelsea. Ye didn' do nuffin' wrong so's t'warrant th'cat o' nine…"

"Duncan… Please. I can't let ye be whipped yerself… Don' make me watch that, please—I'd feel bloody terrible…" she continued, and the changing expression on Duncan's face gave light to the fact that his resolve was weakening. "Please. Y'heard him… M'bound fer a few anyway, don' get yerself involved…"

Whilst this confidential conversation was going on, Jack Sparrow had crossed his arms and was using every ounce of angry determination that he had to stick to his guns.

_Could he really go through with it--? YES! YES HE COULD, SHE HAD RUINED HIS PEARL! But she hadn't meant any harm—NO MATTER, SHE HAD DELIBERATELY DISOBEYED HIM! He might have done the same thing—THE PEARL WAS SCUTTLED BECAUSE OF HER! MUTINY MUTINY MUTINY!_

These were the thoughts that were fighting an epic battle within the mind of the captain as he tried to squelch all feelings of uneasiness and guilt. Those sympathetic feelings wanted very badly to come through, but as luck would have it the girl spoke up and interrupted.

"M-my apologies fer disobeyin', Cap'n Sparrow. M'sorry about th'_Pearl _an' if this'll make up fer it, then I'll take me punishment as any other man here would." And with those noble words, Kelsea Sparrow hefted the back of her shirt and turned, exposing the vulnerable skin to whatever would come.

The captain held his breath. The crew held its breath. The girl her breath.

_The black leather whip was raised. It whistled forward. It struck._

CRACK--!

Kelsea pitched forwards, knocked off balance by the force of the blow as it snapped across her shoulder blades. For a split second there was only the shock of impact and a disconcerting numbness before—_Sweet Mother of God—! _The fires of Hell suddenly ignited on her back and a strangled cry of untold pain found its way from her lips. _Bloody Hell an' fer th'love of th'virgin mother—never in her entire life had she been subjected to such brutal pain--!_ Or so she was thinking desperately until the next stroke fell.

CRACK--!

_God, the awful burning--!_

CRACK--!

_Please just let it end… _

Meanwhile, Jack's gut was taking something of the same punishment. There would be the whistle and the crack and she wouldn't be able to contain the yelps of pain completely. He was sick with the sounds, he had turned away, he felt like he would vomit. _His little girl was being whipped at his bidding—this was all wrong—how had it come down to this—why wasn't he stopping it--?_

CRACK--!

By now tears were streaming in hot rivulets down Kelsea's face much as blood was streaming in hot rivulets down her lower back. The crew could not watch as the lash was raised one last time—

CRACK--!

And then it was over. The now bloodied leather whip clattered to the deck loudly, the only sound to mask it was the uncontainable whimpers and sobs coming from one dark-haired fourteen-year-old who had just had the flesh stripped from her shoulders on her father's command.

**POST-BLOOD THOUGHTS FROM CAPTAIN JACK…**

The sounds retching echoed around the cargo-hold. _Jack Sparrow had just had another man whip his only known offspring like a dog. Jack Sparrow had never known such regret and guilt. Jack Sparrow had his head an shoulders inside an empty cask and was being violently sick._ The sounds retching echoed around the cargo-hold.

After a few more gags, the pirate captain of the _Black Pearl _slumped down to the wooden planks of the floor, his head in his hands.

_How could he have done that--? How could he have watched that--? How could he ever ask her forgiveness--?_

Clearly, by now all of the anger that he had previously held for the girl who lay bleeding upstairs had petered out. _He now knew that a million Black Pearls did not mean to him what his daughter did… But that realization had come too late. He had let his temper get the best of him and now perhaps he had lost her forever. Who could forgive such an atrocity?_ Jack knew with terrible certainty that he himself would never accept that kind of apology and the chances of her doing so were slim.

Despite that, he also knew that he had to try. It was not a fearsome, but a still sick and wretched Captain Jack Sparrow who dragged himself to his feet and began the stumbling climb up to his quarters.

**MEANWHILE BACK AT THE RANCH—ER, CABIN…**

The sounds of whimpering echoed around the captain's quarters. _Kelsea Sparrow had just been whipped by her father's bidding. Kelsea Sparrow had never known such pain and suffering. Kelsea Sparrow had her head resting against the wall, was trying not to move and was praying for death. _The sounds of whimpering echoed around the captain's quarters.

Tears fell hot and defeated from her eyes as she clutched at the rough paneled walls in throes of agony.

_How could he have done that--? How could he have watched that--? Could she ever even look at him the same way again--?_

Kelsea Sparrow was in such pain that she could not move. Blood beaded in scarlet lines across her shoulders where the skin had been shredded by leather. Her eyes squinched shut and teeth grinding together, it seemed impossible that anything could overshadow the physical discomfort—until one took into account the emotional turmoil.

When it came down to it, the girl could understand that he had had every right to be upset. _She would have understood if he hadn't talked to her for weeks. She would have understood if he had forbidden her to leave the ship whilst they were in port. She would even have understood if he had slapped her—for THOSE were the things that fathers did when they were angry with their daughters-- But he hadn't done those things,_ she thought bitterly, gasping as new waves of heat and pain washed over her. _He had ordered her whipped like some sort of lowly beast of burden. Had ordered another man to cause her severe bodily harm. Had listened and watched whilst it was being done--_

It was as she was having these exact thoughts that the door swung open, and Jack Sparrow peeked into the room. In his hands were a bottle of rum and a cloth—implements to be used for disinfecting open wounds. However, the sight that met his eyes was gut-wrenching and he imagined dully that if hadn't already thrown-up every last thing in his stomach, he would have done so at that moment for the sight of his young daughter's mangled back was in full view. As it was, the bottle of rum clattered to the floor.

_An angry red spiderweb of blood and tattered flesh and it was all his fault._

"Mother o' God…" He whispered, before the girl rounded on him, her tear-filled eyes flashing furiously.

"GET OUT OF HERE!" She quickly pulled her shirt down to hide the wounds, doubling over in pain as the fabric scraped the raw skin. But she couldn't let him see the damage… couldn't let him know how badly she had been hurt. _Daddy how could you--?_

"Kelsea—" He took a step in and had to dodge back as an empty bottle came flying towards his head.

"I DON'T BLOODY NEED YER HELP! NOT NOW, NOT EVER!" _Daddy how could you--?_

"Lass, Lissen t'—!"

Kelsea Sparrow turned around fully for the first time and stared levelly into Jack's eyes with such hurt and defiance that took his breath away. Very calmly and slowly, she held up one bloody hand.

"What part abou' '_I don' need you' _are ye havin' problems understanding. Leave me bloody. Well. Alone."

_Daddy how could you--?_

Jack stood defeated and lowered his gaze, knowing that she was absolutely right in her actions. _He wouldn't forgive himself either. _Slowly the captain nodded his head, tears shining in his own eyes for the pain his daughter was experiencing, and backed out of the room. "S'too late now, I know… But fer what it's worth… M'sorry, Kelsea."

And then he was gone, and she was left to the agony. Carefully laying face down on the bed, the dark-haired teenager gave into the desolation. Needing more air between sobs, she breathed deeply-- it really didn't help that the sheets smelled of Jack and bespoke of betrayal. Tears and blood. Blood and tears.

_Daddy. How could you._

**A/N: The next chapter involves India and capture. It is quite involved and the plot is nicely twisty. Excuse the brevity of this chapter, and hold out hope that the next one will be nice and lengthy! What do we think of this one though, eh?  
**


	19. To Someplace Different

Dear patient friends-- I am very sorry to not only have been so long with this, but also for the fact that when associated with the amount of time it has been since an update, this chapter is rather minimal in length and will have to serve as some sort of filler. My profoundest apologies to you all, but I feel that I am somewhat excused because of recent happenings. Just after the last time I put up a chapter a very close friend of mine was in a terrible car accident. She's fine, thank you for caring, but she does need plastic surgery and the doctors wonder whether she will regain sight from her left eye. Obviously this is not your personal concern, but I just wanted to try to make some explanation as to my tardiness and lackluster as of late. Please do try to enjoy this tidbit (for I felt that something was better than nothing) and I will do my best to pick up the old pace as far as adding new and better chapters. Thank you for your time, reviews are, as always, a welcome ray of sunshine in otherwise overcast times.

...TanzFieber

_The seasons came and went, rain and shine, day in and day out. More sun and more storms. More days and more weeks. Years, even. More years… and what it came down to was the following: One pirate captain—dreadlocked and wearing kohl around his eyes; One seventeen-year-old girl— raven-dark featured with a flashing gaze; Three parallel lines— puckered slightly and white along the ridge. It was these last things, these chalky-white lacerations, that made all of the difference in the world. _

_It had been approximately three years—nobody kept accurate time out on the seas— since the day Kelsea Sparrow had nearly been stolen away forever by enemy pirates in the fog; since the day Jack Sparrow had wielded two blades to rescue his daughter back; since the Black Pearl had been scuppered; since the day Jack Sparrow had ordered his little girl punished; since the day Kelsea Sparrow had tried in vain not to scream as the lash found her shoulders; since the day three puckered parallel lines had arrived to serve as a permanent reminder of a father to daughter whipping. The _Pearl _had been fixed, not that it had been easy, but after some days of repairs drifting and improvisation, it had been possible to make it to port. Yes, the _Pearl_ had been fixed, but there was no remedy for the three puckered parallel lines and the emotions they masked. And it was these last things, these chalky-white lacerations, that made all of the difference in the world…_

**SMOOTH SAILING…**

"All hands on deck!" The shout rang out loud and clear, followed by the sound of many feet tramping up from the hold, from aft on the ship, down from the lines. Jack Sparrow stood at the helm of his ship, one hand resting easily on the dark-wooded wheel. Kohl-lined eyes flickered somewhat impassively as they took in the assembling crew of the _Black Pearl_.

When every last man (and one girl) had fallen into ranks, Duncan, spokesman for them all, called out. "All present 'n accounted fer, Cap'n!"

Jack took a deep breath of saltiness that clung to each breeze and glanced around again at them all. _Each a faithful hand before the mast…_ He thought with satisfaction, until his gaze reached one face that was not completely meeting his own. _Kelsea…_

The girl in question was indeed refusing to meet the captain's stare, as had become the norm in the recent past. It wasn't just the old betrayal that still hung between them… It was that things had become progressively worse as the moons waxed and waned—starting with the night after it happened.

**SAID FLASHBACK…**

The sounds retching echoed around the cargo-hold. _Jack Sparrow had, that very afternoon, had another man whip his only known offspring like a dog. Jack Sparrow had never known such regret and guilt. Jack Sparrow had had his head and shoulders inside an empty cask and had been violently sick. Jack Sparrow had seen the scarlet gashes across his daughter's back. Jack Sparrow had since then tried to eat something. Jack Sparrow had his head and shoulders inside an empty cask and was being violently sick— Again._ The sounds retching echoed around the cargo-hold.

After a few more gags, the pirate captain of the _Black Pearl _slumped down to the wooden planks of the floor, his head in his hands. _This whole scene seemed oddly familiar—the only difference being in the fact that moonlight now pooled at his feet instead of sunshine._

The same thoughts were running through his mind as before, the same _'how could I'_s, the same _'what can I do'_s. Unfortunately, even after an entire day of moping around and ignoring his concerned crew he hadn't come up with anything new. _He was just plain wrong and terrible and mean and not understanding and just plain wrong— _He knew, and felt completely and utterly wretched for it—_Not that his feeling wretched would fix anything at all._

Thinking to himself that his stomach was safely empty so as to avoid more vomiting, Captain Jack pulled himself to his feet and made his wobbly way to the stairs. _Perhaps he could talk to her now..? Probably not, but the off chance that she would listen was worth the try._ So reasoning, he began that familiar uneasy climb to the captain's quarters.

_Tap. Tap. Tap_… Went Jack's fist on the heavy door, for he felt that knocking would be too much at this late an hour—and also for how guilty he was feeling. Reluctant taps, it turned out, were all he could muster.

However, the replying call he was expecting/dreading didn't come. He tried tap-tap-tapping once more, a hair louder this time, but still nothing. _Perhaps she was asleep--?_ Taking a deep breath, the pirate captain pushed the portal inward and winced at the creak and blinked in the darkness that fell out of the room.

Peering around, Jack waited with baited breath for something to be thrown at him whilst his eyes adjusted to the inky blackness and silence that enveloped the cabin. Once again though, what he was expecting/dreading simply did not happen. Instead, he was eventually met with the sight of a floor scattered with bloody rags—_gulp—_and a bed full of one slumbering teenager—_sigh._

Trying to quiet the flip-flopping in his stomach, Jack made his way over to the quiet form of his daughter striving to make as little noise as possible—

_CLANG!_

Jack froze and cursed mentally in seven different languages, only three of which he had previously realized he knew, as his knuckles struck the upright handle of a lantern. However, there was no movement from the bunk. _Kelsea had been exhausted—now sleeping like a rock._

By now standing at the girl's side, Jack could still only dimly make out her outline on the sheets. He _could _see that she was sleeping facedown, and that her shirt was still pulled up off her shoulders and therefore was riding up over the back of her head, but beyond that was obscured by the darkness.

_Bugger… he couldn't see… didn't want to see… shouldn't see… needed to see the damage that had been wreaked across his daughter's back at his bidding._ So thinking with a heavy heart, Jack suddenly remembered that lantern and cast about for it in the darkness.

_CLANG!_

More non-English cuss-words streamed silently out of his mouth as his groping hand once again knocked into the illusive light… and yet, still there was no movement. _Bloody hell, what is she, dead--? _He thought furtively before shaking his head at the horrifying idea. _No… No, she was just tired. And rightfully so…_ The pirate captain tried to quiet his irrational thoughts as he dug through his pockets for matches.

After a few fumbling moments, fire was struck and touched furtively to the wick and an orange orb of light flickered to life in the otherwise dim room. Shielding his eyes for a moment, Jack Sparrow held up the lantern and finally turned to see what he couldn't/shouldn't/didn't want to/needed to see…

_Young Kelsea Sparrow's upper shoulders were a blood-caked mess, and that would be putting it lightly. It was like watching a car-accident… he couldn't look away…_ _The damage was terrible upon otherwise smooth skin—three of the five cuts looking far nastier than the rest. It was obvious that the girl had done her best to mop up the mess, but from the looks of things, infection was imminent if the wounds were not treated properly._

Jack reached out, entranced by the horrific sight, and gently touched the girl's shoulder blade along one of the slashes… and at this she _did _jerk awake.

"N-no… STOP—!" he pulled back as she startled into wakefulness. The raven-haired teenager floundered for a moment, tried to sit up, and suddenly seemed to remember her injuries. "MmphOUCH—!"

Falling back to the pillows with her breath coming ragged, Kelsea gritted her teeth before turning her head to the side to see what it was that had touched her sore cuts. Her eyes were met with the shadowy form of Jack, who had backed up towards the desk. Neither spoke for a few weighty moments. Finally, a throat was cleared.

"Kels…"

Wriggling and wincing, the girl painstakingly managed to scoot her shirt back down to hide the lacerations. Taking a breath after doing so, she raised a harsh eyebrow at her father. "Somethin' ye wanted, Captain."

The emotional pain was clear in Jack's face at the harsh statement—_for it certainly wasn't a question_—and he groped fruitlessly for the right words.

"I… I jus' thought… ye need t'clean yer…" He sighed and quailed under her gaze. "D'ye need any help, Kelsea?"

Defiant as anything, the dark-eyed teen only grimaced and pushed herself to her feet, standing uncomfortably before him. "Thought mebbe I made it clear earlier that I don' need yer help." And with that, she strode stiffly by him, out of the room with a last parting shot. "I'll be in me own cabin f'ye need anythin', Cap'n Sparrow."

**JUST A WHILE LATER...**

"OUCH—BLOODY HELL—!"

Jack was startled awake by pained yells, and he peeled his face off of the charts on his desk to sit up. However, it was only seconds before his bleary mind cleared with the thought of where the noises might have come from. _Kelsea—she needed him--!_ With that in mind, the pirate captain got to his feet and made a hasty trip across the hall and into the other room. The scene that met his eyes when he arrived made him stop short.

_Kelsea Sparrow was kneeling with her torso on the bunk, her shirt once again pulled up, and beside her… crouched and sponging at her wounds… doing the job that he himself should have been doing… was Mr. Cotton._

All three froze, each taking in each others presence with a certain sullenness. Jack was confused and hurt and upset. _Cotton was doing a job that was, as her father, his by right. She had needed help and hadn't come to him first. She had… she had _replaced _him. _

For his part, the elderly crewman could see the agitation in his captain's face and was currently wondering if he should just get up and leave the two alone. However, as he made to move, a hand closed around his wrist.

Kelsea Sparrow propped herself up slightly, and although she too felt a slight pang at the look of betrayal that was being sent in her direction, she did her best to ignore it. _He had betrayed her first._ "All apologies fer disturbin' yer rest, Cap'n Sparrow… Mr. Cotton was jus' helpin' wiv me… injuries."

Jack winced as if he had been slapped, but he knew deep down that he really could not say anything. His heart aching like it never had before, the pirate captain of the _Black Pearl _nodded wordlessly and turned on his heel. He left the room to the sound of his daughter hissing in pain as seawater was sponged onto her raw wounds, and could think of nothing else besides getting himself very. Very. Drunk.

**PRESENTLY…**

And now Jack Sparrow stood looking, whilst Kelsea Sparrow stood not looking, and the rest of the crew felt the certain uneasiness that had become trademark of the pirate-daughter duo. Finally, it was Jack who realized that his men were all awaiting his orders.

"Alrigh' mates, it has come t'me attention of late that some o' ye are, shall we say, _dissatisfied_ wiv th'way thing's've been goin' aboard the _Pearl_. Is that th'way yer all feelin' then? That ol' Jack isn't servin' yer best interests as captain?" He paused here with a flourish toward the helm, and waited for someone to speak up. As usual, it was Duncan who acted as the crew's voice.

"'Tis not that we're dissatisfied, more… a bit _bored._ Thing's've been good, Cap'n, don' get us all wrong… but ye've got t'admit that s'been some time since we did a speck o' honest piratin'. Th'boys're gettin' fat n' lazy in these rich times!" The mate explained, and the rest of them chuckled appreciatively, satisfied that he had put it properly without offending the captain.

Captain Jack stroked his mustache pensively and took a few swaggering steps across the foc'sle before answering. "I'll accept that reasonin', an' therefore 'ave come up wiv a proposition that I daresay will appease all of ye." He waited a moment and watched in satisfaction as they all moved surreptitiously closer—_everyone enjoyed listening to Jack Sparrow's propositions._

"So here's th'bargain, mates: Don' know if any of ye've noticed, but fer th'past few days we've been blowin' afore an' Westerly breeze… an' we're goin' t'continue. As a general course, then, th'_Black Pearl_ is bound fer a little place I like t'call… _India._"

There was a moment of silence before a ragged chorus of "Aye's" rang out across the dark-wooded decks. As the men cheered, Jack smiled a dashing golden smile, obviously pleased with the reaction. "Aye, bound fer th'exotic an' always prolific waters of India an' th'Orient. Riches, pleasurable company an' adventure t'thrill th'heart an' soul of any salt here, eh? What say ye t'that?"

As the cheering continued Jack turned with a wave of his hand and settled his eyes on the horizon as his jeweled hand settled on the helm of the _Pearl_. Feeling their eyes on his back, the pirate allowed himself a pleased inward smile before turning back and feigning surprise that they were waiting.

"Well? Back t'work ye scabrous dogs!" And every man scrambled to their posts… _Except for that one bohemian of a seventeen-year-old—the one with flashing obsidian eyes and a brilliant smile that was seen less and less these days. The one with a quick wit and an even quicker sword. Kelsea Sparrow, the daughter that Jack had lost but not lost somewhere along the way… _

Said girl stared intensely at her father's back for an extra few moments, took a step forward as if she was going to call his name, but then shook her head and made for the mainmast. Jack would steer the ship and Kelsea would watch from the crowsnest, it was the unspoken agreement… the rift between pirate and girl much wider than the distance between them…

_But India… Perhaps a new place would remedy the situation? _Jack certainly hoped so, and secretly so did Kelsea. Each stared out at the crimsoning horizon with their own thoughts, willing each gust of warm Caribbean air to push them closer to someplace different.


	20. Go Down You Blood Red Roses

This chapter is, by my opinion, much closer to the caliber that I usually aim for-- nicely long, too, if I do say so myself. Thank goodness and hopefully this means that I'm back into the swing of things, eh? Oh, and I do have a disclaimer: neither of the shanties that Duncan sings are of my own invention. I don't know exactly who wrote them, but the credit does not go to myself. Read on, dears! Reviews would be appreciated.

...TanzFieber

"INDIAAAA HO!" Came the cry from the crow's nest, and it jolted the early morning calm that had settled over the _Black Pearl_. The sun was bright and new for the day, though already hot with the promise of a scorching afternoon if the pirates were confined to the decks of their ship. Each man was glad for the prospect of a respite in which they could cease being unwillingly bored passengers aboard a yacht and return to the piracy they had chosen.

Jack Sparrow stood at the railing of his bonny ship, drinking deep of the spicy India air that seemed to radiate from the coast along with waves of white heat. The gentle breeze at his back was pushing the _Pearl _ever-closer to the port city of Madras, lifting her on the shoulders of the Bay of Bengal. The pirate captain allowed himself a pleased gold-glinting grin as he allowed his mind to indulge in the riches that would be at his fingertips once he set foot on the cities docks. _A ripe old hen, ready for plucking!_

Meanwhile Kelsea Sparrow was up the mizzen-mast, tacking sail with a few of her crewmates. Feet wrapped in the footlines and the stiff breeze holding her nicely against the spar, the nimble seventeen-year-old found herself free to work with both hands. Somewhere nearby, Duncan was singing an old seafarer's shanty in that wheezy baritone of his.

"My clothes and shoes are all in pawn_  
Go down you blood red roses, go down!_  
And it's mighty drafty round Cape Horn  
_ Go down you blood red roses, go down!  
Oh you pinks and posies—  
Go down you blood red roses, go down!_"

Tugging and wrapping in time to the verses, the dark-haired teen found herself humming along with her shipmate and mouthing the words that she knew as well as the rest of them. _Nobody could sing a good shanty like Duncan and it made the rough work easier to manage_.

"It's round Cape Horn we've got to go  
_ Go down you blood red roses, go down!_  
Chasing whales through ice and snow  
_ Go down you blood red roses, go down!  
Oh, you pinks and posies—  
Go down you blood red roses, go down!_"

He sang out lustily, tapping the dark wood of the _Pearl's _yardarm as he did. Suddenly, he became aware of the humming harmony to his left and cast a sideways glance at the girl perched beside him. Duncan gazed for a moment at the girl whose dark hair were whipping round her face in the wind and listened to her lend a pretty voice to the ditty. Knowing that here, on the back of a zephyr, she was happy… He smiled. _It had been far too long since he had seen such an expression of carefree bliss on the girl's face. _However, in his study of her features the man had unwittingly stopped his song and therefore it wasn't long before the subject of his gaze turned to look back.

Noticing that her friend had trailed off somewhere in the song, Kelsea took hold of a line and turned her face to the man who had stopped singing with a reproving look. Catching the odd/affectionate look he was giving her, the girl glared back expectantly.

"What?"

Duncan only continued his searching gaze and cocked his head to the side. "Y'know the words then, lass?"

Self-conscious and thinking that he was teasing her for singing aloud, she blushed and turned her attention back to the work at hand—a little too zealously because immediately there was a yelp of pain as she unintentionally wrenched a coil of rope as tight as she could with two fingers still beneath the loop. _Hell's teeth--! What a blunderin' idiotic thing t'do…_ Blood squeezed out from lacerations on her knuckles as she shook the hand to quell the pain.

The pirate next to her only shook his grizzled head and reached over to check what damage the young buccaneer-ess had done to her digits. Forgetting himself for a moment as he took her more dainty hand in his own, Duncan spoke his thoughts aloud.

"Pride 'n pigheadedness t'match that've yer father, Kelsea Sparrow…" He murmured, and immediately felt her lithe form next to him stiffen.

At the words of her friend, Kelsea felt herself physically brace against the feelings—But then Duncan's hand was on her back, palm flat against the worn linen of her shirt, warm against the skin that had been chilled by constant breezes.

"Don' be afraid t'be yer father's daughter, lass… t'is who ye are an' somefin' t'be proud of, y'hear? I know yew two ain't been gettin' on as've late… but these earthly quarrels don' mean naught when it counts. Be angry wiv th'man if ye must—'tis yore own right—but Jack Sparrow is part o' ye as sure as those bleedin' fingers are." He tore off the hem of his shirt and blotted at the backs of her knuckles. "Which, by th'way, yer lucky ye haven't broken, ye silly pudden-headed whelp wot calls herself pirate!"

Kelsea didn't say anything for a moment—what was there really to say? He had managed to sum everything up in that simple way that he always had… the logic never failing to be sound, which unfortunately usually only made it more incensing. _He was right, as usual… bothersome man! _But after a few moments of her maddening whirligig-esque thinking, Duncan touched her arm lightly and regarded her with a wry smile.

"So, lass… About that song." He smiled, and to his relief she rolled her eyes and smiled back. "I knows ye know the words, young missy, so how 'bout ye join an' old salt in recallin' th'rest of 'em, eh? Got t'get these bloody black sails reeved afore we run aground in India!"

The girl looked down and swallowed, wondering if she dare sing out. _Prideful an' pigheaded to match Jack Sparrow._ Casting his own eyes aloft in mock exasperation at the girl's modesty, the shipmate tugged the canvas in his left hand taut and wound a length of rope around it to keep it flat on the spar. He worked with ease borne of many years on the briny, gnarled fingers as precise as a surgeon's. After a moment, the silence was broken again.

"Oh my old mother she wrote to me…"

Duncan smiled toothily at the sound of Kelsea's tentative voice before answering the call. _"Go down you blood red roses, go down!"_

"My darlin' son, come home from the sea!"

_"Go down you blood red roses go down!"_

_"Oh, you pinks and posies—  
Go down you blood red roses, go down!"_

By now heaving away gamely on sail and lines so that they twanged in the bright morning light, the two shipmates laughed together and joined up for the last verse with energy bursting.

"Oh it's one more pull and that'll do_  
Go down you blood red roses, go down!_  
For we're the bullies to kick her through_  
Go down you blood red roses, go down!  
Oh, you pinks and posies—  
GO DOWN YOU BLOOD RED ROSES, GO DOWN!"_

And the wings of the _Black Pearl _were furled, lashed down tight, made fast as only two true sailors could make them. Singing the last chorus at the top of her voice, Kelsea was suddenly filled with the playful vigor that she had thought lost since the day of Joshamee Gibbs' death—and she leapt to her feet.

"LASS—'AVE YE GONE MAD—?"

And it was a fair question, for the dark-haired siren of a girl had not merely stood up with her feet in the footlines, she had jumped clear out of them to land sure-footed on the top of the spar! Grasping the line with one hand, Kelsea Sparrow splayed the other one out to the side and felt sure she was about to lift clear off the yard and soar above the _Pearl _like a kite. She closed her eyes and for the first time in a while, allowed pure and unadulterated joy to flow through her veins. _She was young, she was alive, and it felt bloody good!_

"YO HO, YO HO, A BLEEDIN' PIRATES LIFE FOR ME!" She crowed, her effervescent voice loud enough to disturb a seagull that flapped disgruntledly past. Duncan the crewman laughed heartily and shook his head at her antics. _The whelp was completely and utterly bats… Oh t'be young again! _

Far below on the dark-wooded decks of the _Black Pearl_, Jack Sparrow heard the commotion and turned his attention aloft. The sight that met his curious gaze made his heart both lift and skip a few beats in the same moment—_His daughter was balanced precariously on one of his ship's halyards, obviously without a pressing concern for holding on tightly, and with every gust the breezes seemed poised to pluck the girl from her perch—_and so the captain felt the noose of worry tighten around his stomach—_And yet, the raw jubilation that filtered down through the wind-singing rigging from the tiny figure above was enough to brighten any man's spirits_.

_She's happy…_ Jack thought with a jolt, especially surprised because he had many times despaired of ever hearing such laughter from the seventeen-year-old again. _Bloody daft, o' course… but happy._

The pirate captain turned back to the sight of an upcoming coast-line, singing and laughter still ringing loud from above.

**ANCHOR WEIGHED IN MADRAS, INDIA…**

"Alrigh' lads, we'll go in shifts—ten men t'th'watch at a time, the rest free t'go ashore. Every twenny-four hours those on board'll ring th'bell thrice an' the next shift 'o ten must return t'relieve ship's watch." Jack stared around at the eager faces of his crew as they nodded in understanding. "Haven' yet decided how long this whimsical 'oliday is goin' t'last, so ye lucky buckoes are t'keep up rotation of duty. Savvy?"

A chorus of '_aye_'s rang out and the captain smiled, gesturing wide at the rich coastline behind his figure.

"'Tis settled then, eh? Divide yerselves into groups 'o ten an' draw straws t'see who stays wiv me _Pearl _tonight."

Ten minutes later, Jack Sparrow found himself with ten less men standing in front of him— those who had been picked had slouched off grumpily to their posts. "'Ave ye worked out th'schedule then, mates? Lovely. Ah, well then I s'pose there's only one thin' left t'say… _T'THE BOATS, GENTS!_"

And the crew of the _Black Pearl _let out a round of '_huzzah_'s and set to heaving away at the long-boats, lowering them enthusiastically to the water and clambering in. Never one to let his men do all of the work, Jack sat himself at midship and reached for the oar—but another set of hands closed around the shaft just as his own did.

"Oh, er. Sorry, Cap'n Sparrow…" And Jack found himself staring into a pair of dark eyes that matched his own. He let go of the oar as if it had bitten him, and it clunked to the bottom of the boat because Kelsea had dropped it just as quickly.

Awkward silence blossomed between them like blood from a wound, before suddenly a new man had stepped between them.

"Allow me, lass—Cap'n," called Duncan cheerfully as he sat down at the oarlock. "Oi, Kursar!" He hailed the pirate seated across from him to begin rowing.

Both now out of a job, the Sparrow duo stared at each other for another moment before the sudden lurch forward of their longboat nearly sent them both over in a heap. Kelsea sat down hard and Jack mumbled some incoherent excuse before making his way to stand in the front.

_Bugger…_ lamented Jack as he took up his heroic pirate captain pose with one knee up in the bow. _How much longer could this discomfort go on--?_

_ "Away-o, away-o, now bend yore backs an' heave ho!" _Duncan was singing again, and the men in each boat joined in with gusto as they pulled for the shore.

**ON THE SHORES OF MADRAS, INDIA…**

"Don' bloody ferget t'switch watch, ye scurvy dogs!" Captain Sparrow shouted at the backs of his crew. They had beached the boats and secured them to stout palms that lined the shores, and now each man was wasting no time in reaching the bustling port city. Believing himself alone, Jack turned back to the sight of his beautiful dark ship floating on the water and doffed his hat off to her with a leggy bow.

"Wait fer me, my lady… I'll be back afore ye know it."

"Cap'n… who're ye talkin' to?"

The pirate captain nearly fell out of his bow and onto his face at the sound of a vaguely amused female voice, and whirled around to find the dark-featured Kelsea crouched by one of the longboats and eyeing him with a fair amount of confusion.

"Kelsea—! What… How… What're ye doin' here!" he spluttered, rather jumpy from the fact that she had startled him, and embarrassed for he usually didn't talk to his ship in the presence of others.

Still giving him that strange look, the girl held up the coil of rope she was working with and motioned to the boat at her feet. "Tyin' off th'last boat, Cap'n Sparrow, jus' like ye ordered."

"Jus' like I…" he trailed off, before replacing his hat on again and wiping the sheepishness from his features. "Right. Well, I'll finish th'job, yer free t'take off after the crew."

"Oh. Alright." And she got to her feet, brushing the sand from her hands and knees before handing her captain the line. He took it from her without a glance, immediately busying himself with the tying of knots overly-complicated for the task at hand. Kelsea rolled her eyes at his hunched figure and sighed before turning on her heel and making her own way towards the busy port.

Peering around furtively to check that she was on her way, Jack found himself watching her retreating figure. _She walked a rolling walk, graceful yet unstable, as if she were navigating the decks of a tempest-tossed ship—She walked the Jack Sparrow walk. _Shaking his dread-locked head and sighing a sigh of his own, the pirate captain mumbled under his breath a request for another of his ladies—

_"Fate an' fortune protect ye, Kelsea Sparrow… Be careful, Luv."_

Jack Sparrow finished with his knots and began a slower trek up the beach—walking a rolling walk, graceful yet unstable, as if he were navigating the decks of a tempest-tossed ship.

**IN THE BUSTLING PORT OF MADRAS, INDIA…**

"FRESH FEESH! CAUGHT TODAY OFFA DESE VERY SHORES!"

"I'LL TAKE TWO, MATE!"

Kelsea Sparrow ducked just in time as a huge silver mackerel went soaring overhead, sent on its way by an Indian street-vender. As it was, the fish brushed by her shoulder and left a streak of scales on her sleeve. _Bloody Hell, what kind of place WAS this--?_

Never having sailed anywhere beyond the Caribbean Sea, which was vast enough in itself, the girl was taking in this port of Madras, India like a whole new world. The layout of a marketplace along the shores was a familiar enough layout for the young lady pirate, but the contents and process of selling was a new thing entirely.

_Sales pitches, fish, accusations, packets of spices, money, fruit, and all other manner of things flew fast and furious through the air—and the din of it all was fantastically overcoming._

So entranced by the newness of her surroundings, the seventeen-year-old completely forgot that two fish were meant for the man behind her, not just one.

_"OI!"_

But the warning came too late—the second shiny mackerel collided with the side of her face in an explosion of scales in the air and stars in front of her eyes. Reeling from the blow, the girl stumbled backward a few steps—right into the waiting grasp of the man whom the fish was intended for.

"What's in yer 'ead, ye daft liddle fool—? Ye've gone an' ruined a perfectly good fish!" He shook her by the scruff of her neck before turning to the vender again. "One more, mate, this one ain't no good no more!"

However, the man behind the cart was shaking his head with a less than friendly smile. "Sorry, my friend, deal 'as been done—zat feesh was over 'alf way to you! I 'ave completed my part of zis bargain."

"But I paid ye fer_ TWO, _ye cheatin' scoundrel!"

"Apologies, my friend—t'was not ze fault of Aziz zat zis liddle girl got in ze way." And the man who called himself Aziz went back to his cart.

Kelsea Sparrow gasped as the grip on the back of her neck tightened and she found herself looking up into the face of a none-too-happy merchant sailor. "Ye cost me a dinner wot I already paid for, ye bloody gutter waif! I'll teach yer a lesson ye won' likely ferget!"

Unfortunately for the man, he didn't know whom or what he was dealing with—_Kelsea Sparrow was no gutter waif._ As he raised his hand to strike her across the face, she stomped on his foot and elbowed him in the stomach.

"OOF—!" He gasped, doubling over in pain before lunging towards her, bellowing like an enraged bull. Nimbly sidestepping his charge, the dark-haired teen neatly tripped her adversary—sending him headlong into the fish cart.

_CRAAASH!_

Fish slid off of the demolished stand and into the street, glistening in the bright sunlight as dust settled on top of them. People in the street scooped some of the runaway mackerel up, tipping their hats to the girl who had caused the spill. The man in the wreckage lay groaning, and the street-vender was doing an enraged dance amongst his ruined goods.

"AI! YOU 'AVE RUINED ME!" he shouted, then lapsing into a language that certainly wasn't English as he continued his angry hopping. Kelsea raised her hands placatingly, backing up a few steps.

"Sorry, mate… See, m'knew t'this town an' t'was an accident, really—" she began, but was cut off by more cursing and the sound of a blade being whipped from its sheath.

"New to Madras? T'will be ze first an' last visit, girl!" shouted Aziz, and he swung a curved scimitar high in the hazy morning light.

"Not good." Mumbled the teenaged pirate, eyes wide as she realized that apologies weren't exactly what this crazed merchant was looking for. Wondering how she was going to get herself out of this particular mess, Kelsea began backing up more rapidly and looking for a way out of the packed market place. Finding no other exit through the tightly-hemmed in crowd, she finally drew her own sword. "Alrigh' then, mister, I'll 'ave ye!"

But the fight was not to be, for at that moment the sound of synchronized boots pounding the cobbled streets could be heard, heralded by a shrill whistle—someone had alerted the authorities to the trouble brewing in the marketplace.

**MEANWHILE AT A DIFFERENT VENDER…**

"'Aven't ye got anythin'… smaller?" Jack Sparrow was holding out his hands in front of him, each finger bedecked with a different gaudy ring.

The jewelry vender who was watching the captain with shifty eyes shrugged his shoulders in a non-helpful way. "Why does ze pirate want someting smaller when zose rings all fit?"

"Because, mate," he blew a frustrated breath from between gold-capped teeth. "S'not fer me, 'tis fer someone else. Someone wiv _smaller _hands.

"Ah, for ze pirate's lady suitor, yes?"

"Not exactly." Jack thought of what Kelsea's fiery indignance would be at being referred to as one of his _lady suitors_ and had to stifle a chuckle. "'Tis fer me daughter."

However, whether or not the man had something that would fit a young woman's hands became inconsequential, because just then a stampede of red-coated soldiers herded past. One of them stopped and spun Jack around roughly.

"You there, which way to the fish market?" The young man demanded brusquely, and the pirate merely pointed in a direction that would lead them far away from himself. Nodding, the soldier unwittingly let go of the coat of the most notorious pirate on the Spanish Main and marched off with his small battalion. "Down this way, men!"

Fully amazed that he had just been casually released, Jack Sparrow patted himself all over as if to check if he was really still there and not about to be arrested. _Bloody stupid redcoat!_ _Must've been a green whelp of an officer, not to notice who had just been questioning!_ Smiling widely at his luck, the pirate captain swaggered off in the direction not taken by the soldiers, pocketing every ring that he still wore from the vender's cart.

**AT A WRECKED FISH STALL…**

The crowd had formed an impenetrable circle, closed on all sides except for the one gap that enforcers of the Crown were now streaming through.

"Bugger…" Kelsea stood tall in the center of the circle, sword drawn, with nothing to do but glare defiantly at the men who had her surrounded.

Young Captain Greenley of the East India Trading Company took in the scene in a glance. _What was all the trouble, then?_ From what he could tell there wasn't a scuffle, just a pretty young woman standing in the center of the crowd. _She does have a sword…_ He noticed, the well-used blade catching his eye. _But what pretty maid could use a blade? And what a beautiful girl she was, too…_ Feeling secure in his control of the situation, and even thinking that perhaps he could impress the young lady, the captain spoke out in his most commanding tone.

"Alright, Milady, we've got you surrounded! No need to be frightened, just put up your weapon and we'll get this all sorted out!" It was the same inexperienced captain of the guard that had let Jack go earlier, but Kelsea didn't know this. She did, however, notice that he was being daft in asking her to put up her blade and also in calling her _milady_—_couldn't he see that she was a pirate? _The girl rolled her eyes and stood her ground.

"Rather not, mate, thanks."

"I'll not ask you again, Miss, surrender your weapon and come quietly or I will be obligated to have these brave men subdue you forcefully!"

"Look, Cap' Ninny Whatsyourface, stop callin' me '_miss_' an' stop expectin' me t'comply wiv yer nicey-nice requests. As fer those _brave men_ havin' t'subdue me… I'd like t'see any one of 'em try!" She knew it was a stupid thing to say, and that going quietly would have probably been the better option, but her fighting spirit was aroused. _Daft like Jack._

As could be expected, '_Cap'n Ninny Whatsisface_' hadn't taken too kindly to the new nickname. His face reddened to the color of his coat, and he pointed disgruntledly at the cheeky young lady who had taunted him. "THAT'S ENOUGH! MEN, RELIEVE THE GIRL OF HER SWORD AN' CLAP 'ER IN IRONS!"

Seventeen-year-old Kelsea Sparrow stood her ground coolly, dark eyes flashing, sword point ready to engage. "C'mon then, me lucky buckoes!"

**IN A TAVERN NOT TOO FAR AWAY…**

"Would ye be so kind as t'serve me two rums, Luv?" Jack leaned on the bar and roguishly winked at the busty maid who was wiping the counter with a rag. Giggling flirtatiously, the girl in question gave him the once over. _Ooh, what a devilishly handsome stranger! _

"Aye, depends on who's askin'…" She batted her eyelashes coyly. Used to this game, the pirate flashed one of his most striking grins and examined his fingernails carelessly.

"Cap'n Jack Sparrow, at yer service."

"Captain Jack Sparrow… Donchya know I believe I may 'ave heard of ye…" The barmaid simpered, leaning over languidly to pull two mugs off of the rack and fill them from a keg of rum.

"Z'at so? Well, seems we've got somethin' in common already, an' seein' as how ye already know me name… What's yers, Luv?" _Hah, he had her eating out of his palm… Nobody could resist Jack Sparrow when he turned on the charm. _Jack reached over and grasped her hand, bringing it to his lips in a terribly dashing maneuver.

He never heard the name, because just then someone shoved by him roughly.

"Oof—! OI! WATCH WHO YER PUSHIN, YE MANGY CAD!"

The man who had originally bumped him only waved a hand dismissively as he continued on his way. "Mangy cad yerself! Ye were takin' up th'entire passage!

"Well where're ye goin' in such a bleedin' hurry?" Jack demanded with a scowl—_He had to remember that he wasn't in the Caribbean… not everyone knew of his reputation in India._

"T'the fishmonger—Word is there's some pretty, dark-haired pirate lass given' the pride o' th'British Navy a good drubbin'!"

_A pretty dark-haired pirate lass fighting the redcoats--? _Jack's heart suddenly leapt into his throat. _Chances were there wouldn't be TWO raven-haired short-tempered female pirates running around in Madras at the same time..._ "Kelsea..." He mumbled, and then was running for the door, pushing all manner of patrons out of his way as he went.

"Captain, what about yer drinks--!" Called the barmaid after him, thoroughly annoyed at the departure of the beautiful newcomer… But he was already out into the street.

Jack Sparrow ran as he hadn't run in a long time—ran as if the _Kraken_ were chasing him through the cobbled and crowded streets. _If Kelsea were trying to fight off the entire Navy by herself—and she probably was, the hot-headed whelp—he had to get to her before she got herself captured or worse…_

The masses began to thicken as the pirate got closer to the fishy part of the marketplace, and as he did he could hear the sounds of cheering, laughter, cursing... _and above all of that, the ringing clashes of a swordfight._

"OI! OUTTA ME WAY YE SLACK-JAWED IDIOTS! LET ME THROUGH—!" he grunted, elbowing and shouldering his way through the tightly packed viewers of the scuffle. Despite his best efforts though, Jack found himself virtually unable to reach the center of the circle. Turning the air blue with his cursing, the pirate captain glanced around himself, kohl-lined eyes searching for a solution.

And then he saw them—_draperies hanging from a balcony that overlooked the marketplace! _Jack's mind settled on those pieces of fabric, and in a thrice, he had boosted himself up on the shoulders of the men to either side, stepped on a few others on his way towards his goal (ignoring the angry shouts of the people he was stepping on) and made a desperate leap towards those drapes.

"Thanks fer th'lift, mates!" He called out, by now swinging from that balcony like a pendulum. Tightening his grip grimly, Jack Sparrow now went hand over hand up towards the platform above him. After a few exhausting moments of climbing, bejeweled fingers caught the wooden planking, knuckles turning white with the weight they were supporting.

"Mmph—!" the pirate captain of the _Black Pearl _grunted in exertion, but by some supreme act of willpower, he pulled his body up and onto the balcony. Gasping for a moment, Jack nonetheless staggered to his feet and turned his attention to the scene below… and his stomach once again gave a nasty jolt.

**THE REASON FOR JACK SPARROWS SUDDEN STOMACH ACHE…**

"SOMEBODY GRAB HER, FOR CHRISSAKE! SHE'S JUST A GIRL!" By now Captain Greenley had lost all of his powdered-wig-stiff-upper-lip composure, and was leaping about in agitation, shouting at his men who were by now reluctant to engage their feminine foe.

Panting lightly, Kelsea Sparrow still stood her ground in the middle of the circle, the ground around her a bit red and strewn with the groaning men who had tried fruitlessly to capture the lithe pirate. "Aye, she _is _justa _girl_, lads! What be th'problem, then? Pride o' th'King's Navy, is it? C'mon ye lily-livered men o' th'crown!"

Spurred on by the taunting, a young soldier known only as Jenkins charged into the ring with his sword raised—not two moments later coming charging back out of the circle with his knuckles laid open to the bone and no weapon to speak of.

The bane of their existence, the wily dark-haired siren, laughed loudly and curtsied prettily. "Ah, gents, ye give up too easy!" Blood boiling and the fighting fire burning brightly in her heart, Kelsea felt purely invincible.

Unbeknownst to the girl, her father was taking in all of this from a balcony above the market.

_Daft stupid pinheaded fool! _Jack thought exasperatedly, as he watched her arrogant antics in the clearing below. _Damn to hell that ego of hers!_ But he did have to grudgingly admit a sense of fierce pride and admiration as he watched her repel three more soldiers with seemingly no more trouble than it took to swat at annoying flies. _That's my girl_. "Give 'em Hell an' vinegar, lass…" He mumbled under his breath.

But then something else caught his attention, something that suctioned his heart and stomach alike all the way up into his throat—_Another squadron of soldiers were coming down a different alleyway towards the clearing with bayonets held at the ready! They would be coming up behind her… she wouldn't see them in time… _

Jack thought of calling out a warning, but realized with dismay that even if she did know they were coming, she wouldn't be able to take ona score of men all at once. Mind whirling, the pirate captain of the _Black Pearl _could only watch as the pincer-movement of red-coated men moved closer and closer to his unaware daughter.


	21. The Honest Ones You Have to Look Out for

Alright, friends-- I'm sorry this has been so long in the making. Class has been abso-bloody-lutely hellish, but I don't suppose that makes up for the tardiness of this update. Ah well, you have my apologies. Thanks to those of you who are still invested enough in the story to be reading still, and I wish I could promise that I'll be better about updating quicker... but it wouldn't do to make promises I can't be sure of keeping. Can't control the professors darlings, I'm sorry, but I can tell you that I have no intention of abandoning this story, so don't worry about that. Enough with my gilding of the lily, read on! Review if you would like. CHEERS!

...TanzFieber

Jack Sparrow stood frozen on that balcony, a warning shout lodged in his throat, his eyes glued unblinkingly to the scene unfolding below.

_She was going to be caught… captured… branded… or worse—!_ He thought frantically, watching the pride of the King's Navy move ever-closer to his unsuspecting offspring. _I've got t'bloody do somethin'..._

Just then, the company behind the teenaged lady pirate broke into the clearing and two men seized her from behind.

"Wha—! NO! GERROFFOME—!" Kelsea started yelling angrily, but the soldiers pressed tighter— now that they were no longer in danger of being cut down by her blade—hemming her in on all sides and grabbing her flailing limbs. Captain Greenley of the East India Trading Company shouted in triumph, urging his now emboldened men forward.

"That's it, men! Subdue the wretch! Knock her unconscious if you have to!"

"ARE YE SO AFRAID T'ENGAGE A GIRL FAIR 'N SQUARE? LEGGO AN' FIGHT YE LILY-LIVERED CHEATING SC—!" Kelsea began a strip of curses that promised to turn the air royal blue, but a rifle butt caught her a glancing blow across the cheek and she went down hard.

"Oi!" The one syllable word had sprung past Jack's lips before he had even fully contemplated the effect it might have… The only thing his angry conscious could grasp was that his defenseless daughter had just been bludgeoned viciously. However, the time for cautious planning had evaporated, for already half of the crowd below had turned to look.

_Bugger it all…_ the pirate captain thought grimly, realizing that there was no turning back, and so he shouted again. _He had to distract them from her…_ "Gents in th'red jackets—Aye, m'talkin' t'you! You in th'fancy hat!"

Hearing the raucous voice above the din, Captain Greenly glanced over his shoulder to see what the commotion was about. Realizing that he had captured the attention of the marketplace, Jack Sparrow took a deep breath and slipped into his trademark flamboyant showmanship.

"Gentlemen, good ladies all!" he paused for dramatic effect, flashing that golden grin in the late morning sunshine. "Yer all in fer a treat t'day… for t'was this very morn that wotsisface in th'hat—ye got a name, mate?"

Realizing that he was the only one wearing a fancy plumed hat, Greenley felt a hot blush creep into his cheeks at the gall of this dread-locked stranger, and he stood up straighter, determined not to be made a fool of again. "Captain Bartholomew Greenley. And you are?" he sniffed with all of the disdain he could muster.

Jack's crocodile smile widened if possible and he shook his head in mock despair of the young commander's ignorance. "Son… M'Captain Jack Sparrow." A murmur of recognition at the name rippled through the crowd and the pirate's ego swelled just a little bit more as he iced the cake with… "Savvy?"

Down below in the center of the crowd, one person gasped louder than the rest as she heard the voice, and then the name. Until that moment, Kelsea Sparrow had remained with her back to whomever was shouting from a balcony—the soldiers attacking and fighting to bear her to the ground had been enough to hold her attention. But now, as everyman in the place froze and became captivated by the gesticulations of the rogue pirate, the girl's eyes widened and her gaze traveled up to meet that of her father. _What th'bloody Hell was HE doin' there—?_

Frankly, Jack wasn't too sure of that himself. Despite that small detail, he bowed deep and went back to his act—playing Captain Jack Sparrow to the hilt. "So ye _have_ heard of me, then? Right, well… 'Tis an interestin' tale, this—I myself was strollin' through this lovely village not 'alf hour ago, mindin' me own business, when the bonny Cap'n Barty Greenwotsit apprehended me unawares by th'coat!"

_'Cap'n Barty Greenwotsit' _wasn't any happier about this new title than he had been about the _'Cap'n Ninny Wotsisface' _that the girl had called him earlier. Not only that, but he suddenly caught on to the story that was being told and his face reddened even more. Jack barreled on with his story.

"But, as fortune would 'ave it… Th'magnanimous Captain decided t'let me go free as a bird!" The pirate captain grinned indulgently as a murmur ran through the crowd, and especially amongst the soldiers.

_Greenley had caught Jack Sparrow, scourge of the seas, and let him go--? Any Navy man would KILL for that opportunity and never pass it up!_

"Aye, now t'was just a matter of curiosity, really… But I was wonderin', Cap'n Wotsit, if there was a specific _reason _fer yer kindness?"

Greenley's face was, at this point, a shade of scarlet that caused his coat to pale in comparison—_Now his entire company, not to mention the villagers, would know of his blunder!_ Clearing his throat loudly to hush the murmurs, the young Navy captain did his best to look down at his nose while having to look up. Needless to say, he looked absolutely ridiculous.

"Yes, my _kindness_, quite. Well, Jack Sparrow, was it—?

"Captain. _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, if ye please."

The young man in the fancy hat decided to ignore this comment, but everyone else around chuckled. Stiffening up even more, if possible, he continued as if he hadn't heard. "You are correct in considering the release an act of extreme charity, and also the sign of a very lucky day for you. Simply consider it very good fortune that another knave decided to come along, in the form of this young wretch, and she's taking your place upon the gallows tomorrow." He nodded curtly towards Kelsea, who decided at that moment to open her incorrigible mouth.

"Takin' me place on the gallows, was it? _Really_, Barty? How nice've ye t'invite me when we don' hardly know each other yet… but I think m'otherwise engaged. Sorry, mate." She tried wriggling out of the hold of the men who had her arms, to no avail. The seventeen-year-old squinted one eye and glanced over her shoulder at the stony-faced redcoats. "Y'know lads, ye seem t'have an iron grip on me arms… Would ye mind terribly if I asked ye t'loosen up jus' a bit? There's a good bunch o' Navy dunderheads—OOF!"

Somehow, the rifle-butt that caught her in the stomach seemed a clear indicator that the soldiers had had quite enough of her cheek, and Kelsea Sparrow found herself doubled over as Captain Greenley moved closer.

"Pity we won't be getting the chance to become better acquainted, but the prison guard and hangman are more anxiously inclined to meet you than I," he stated coldly before nodding to his men. "Clap this urchin in irons and take her away."

And the men started to do just that, when a familiar voice rang out again.

"So t'_was_ charity, eh?" Jack Sparrow called loudly, waving his hands all around to call attention back to himself. _He just had to keep them occupied… Kelsea's life was at stake…_ Thankfully, every face turned to him again, although this time a bit reluctantly. Taking a deep breath, the pirate rambled into one of his long-winded diatribes—anything to keep their minds off of arresting his daughter.

"Well then, Cap'n Greenley… Seems yer a lovely man—a man t'be trusted, even. Me? I'm dishonest, and a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest," he drawled, his nimble mind groping for a plan—_how about that clothes-line?_ "Honestly. It's the honest ones you want to watch out for, because you can never predict when they're going to do something incredibly... stupid." And with that, one Captain Jack Sparrow leapt to the balcony railing and dove into space.

"What's the fool doing—!" Yelped Greenley, and everyone else was thinking exactly the same thing. Meanwhile, Jack had managed to catch hold of said clothes-line, which promptly snapped as his weight landed upon it—sending the pirate captain swinging towards the ground. _Oh yes, another of Captain Sparrow's botched and bumbling, yet fantastically graceful escapes._

"MMPH—!" The air rushed from his lungs a bit as his boots hit the cobbled streets, but he turned back to the soldiers who were staring in shock. "What's th'matter, mates? Never seen a famous an' devilishly 'andsome pirate afore? Well take a good look, for this is th'day ye'll always remember as th'day ye _caught _Captain Jack Sparrow—an' then let 'im go again!"

For a moment, nobody moved or said a thing. Jack was baiting the Naval officer, and he held his breath while waiting for the response. Meanwhile, Captain Greenley was debating what he should do—_chase the pirate or hold onto the girl..? This was a chance to redeem himself… a chance to make a name by catching one of the most notorious pirates of the day… The girl was only a street-urchin, of no real importance after all…_ Finally, the sting of Sparrow's words won out, and the young officer swung his sword aloft.

"AFTER HIM, MEN! SPARROW HAS AN APPOINTMENT WITH THE HANGMAN AT TOMORROW'S FIRST LIGHT!"

Jack Sparrow once again stood frozen—this time at the sight of a regiment of red charging at him. _Well he had certainly caught their attention… NOW WHAT!_

"Oh Bugger…" and with nothing else for it, he turned and ran.

**CONFUSION ON THE PART OF A GIRL PIRATE…**

The crowd broke into wild laughter and cheering as the notorious Captain Jack Sparrow fled from the marketplace, the Navy tripping over themselves in their hasty pursuit—clearly everyone had forgotten about the pirate lass who had started the whole messy business in the first place—that is, except for Captain Bartholomew Greenley who hadn't started chasing yet. In fact, he turned back to the startled Kelsea with a trite smile.

"Suppose it's _your _lucky day then, eh Miss? How fortunate for you that one foolish Jack Sparrow decided to make an appearance and save your neck from the noose—"

"_CAPTAIN_ Jack Sparrow," the girl spat viciously as a reaction, and Greenley raised an eyebrow at her.

"Indeed. Well, as I have said: today is your lucky day—and if you'll excuse me, I now have an accidentally heroic idiot to catch and hang—so I suggest you run along now, whelp."

_Whelp—only Jack got to call her that—!_ The seventeen-year-old thought, grinding her teeth as her mind whirled and her tormenter left her standing alone in the crowd. _Speaking of Captain Sparrow… Why had he done that—? He had… he had stepped in when she had gotten herself into trouble that she admittedly (albeit reluctantly) could not get herself out of… He had thrown himself into the path of an oncoming bullet… he had been her father again. WHAT THE BLEEDING HELL WAS GOING ON!_

So with nothing else for it, Kelsea Sparrow could only take Bartholomew Greenley's advice—she turned and ran. She ran towards the only familiar sight within a thousand miles—the dark-wooded topsails of the _Black Pearl _that danced on the horizon.

**MEANWHILE, THERE WAS A CHASE…**

His breathing was ragged as he crouched there, heart-hammering and muscles protesting their awkward positions. Jack Sparrow felt like he had been running for hours, the uneven cobblestones wearing mercilessly on his feet that were so at home on storm-rolling decks.

_Apparently,_ the pirate had to admit through mentally gritted teeth, _Greenley wasn't quite so thick as he had originally thought—_for the pestering Navy Captain had sent many battalions on different routes through the city, so that just as Jack thought himself free of one group, he would run almost headlong into another.

So now, there he was, ducked behind a crumbling well foundation down what was probably a dead-end alleyway. _Damn to the depths this unfamiliar labyrinth of a town!_ The pirate captain cursed in his head, having to hold his breath as yet another troop of redcoats marched smartly by in their search. Receding boots pounded away and Jack breathed again.

Most unfortunately, the truth was that he had no idea where he was going or what he was doing. This city of Madras—well, it was certainly not Tortuga, and Jack Sparrow was painfully out of his element in the foreign streets. Lost and tired, an unfamiliar notion began to tickle at the edges of his consciousness— the realization that, for the first time in his havoc-wreaking life, he was going to be caught and there was nothing he could do about it. Pulse quickened and knuckles clenched as the sound of more boots approaching tightened his throat…

**RUNNING RUNNING RUNNING…**

Kelsea Sparrow had been running through oppressive heat until her muscles began to combust and her veins started pumping battery acid—or that was how she felt. Somehow, despite the fact that the spars of the _Black Pearl_ looked to be hovering close around every building, they never _ever_ seemed to get any closer. But, just as she began to fear that her legs were going to give out and that her face would consequently meet the rough roads of Madras, she rounded one last building and the docks swam into view.

Pausing for just a moment, the seventeen-year-old bent low and allowed sweet, life-giving oxygen to fill her lungs properly again. _He didn't know his way around the city… there were so many soldiers… Greenley was out for his blood… _These were the thoughts that were spinning through her mind like pinwheels, more dizzying even than the heat and exhaustion that threatened to bring the girl to her knees. _Jack would be… he'd be caught. Caught and…_ But she couldn't bring herself to even contemplate that last part. _No. Jack Sparrow was wily. Jack Sparrow was cunning. Jack Sparrow was invincible…_

Shaking her head, Kelsea spat and stood straight again despite a brief argument with her shaky legs. Generally satisfied that carrying on wouldn't kill her, the dark-haired piratess forced her stubbornly immobile muscles into a jog that carried her down the wooden piers. _Duncan. She would find Duncan, and he would know what to do… Duncan always knew what to do… He'd know what to do… Wouldn't he..?_

**A LAST STAND..?**

_The jig was up—_With a rough wall at his back and a sea of flashing bayonets at his throat, Captain Jack Sparrow found himself in a rather prickly situation. He swallowed hard and held up his hands placatingly with a nervous smile.

"Y'know, I'd rather hoped we were past all this…" he started hopefully, but the only reply was a cold clanking as silver blades and rifle muzzles squeezed in a bit closer. "Alrigh', alrigh'—! I c'n see that maybe we're not—" the pirate captain stood on his tiptoes as serpentine steel tickled his adams apple. "But I'm 'avin' another thought! 'Ow 'bout if you fine, upstanding gentlemen put those silly guns away an' we'll 'ave drinks all around, eh? What say ye t'that?"

"They say what I say, and I say you've had your last drink, Sparrow."

The ranks parted just a bit and Jack looked up to see Captain Bartholomew Greenley striding purposefully towards him, all composure and Naval procedure regained.

While on the inside his heart dropped down to somewhere around his stomach and insisted on flopping around like a fish on the water, on the outside Jack Sparrow was the picture of calm and collected—he even managed a mildly interested smile.

"Ah, Barty! Jus' th'man I've been wantin' t'see! Oh, an' it's _Captain _Sparrow, lad, since ye've obviously forgotten… But m'willin' t'forgive an' forget those things! No harm done, really—"

Instead of answering, the officer of the East India Trading Company merely glanced up and gave a short nod. Before Jack could register what that sort of a signal meant, something heavy caught him in the back of the head and brilliant fireworks exploded behind his lids that swam to a throbbing darkness.

Captain Greenley stepped forwards to where Jack Sparrow's unconscious form lay, and allowed himself a grim smile of satisfaction. "Good work, Jenkins. Men, clap this blackguard in irons and throw him in a cell."

Lieutenant Matthew Jenkins saluted his captain from where he was perched on top of the wall, his hands still dusty from the sack of flour he had dropped on the unwary pirate below.

**SEARCHING FOR DUNCAN…**

Kelsea Sparrow had reached the end of the pier and she glanced around wildly for some inspiration. She knew that she needed to find Duncan… but had absolutely no idea where to begin. In fact, the only reason she was on the docks at all was because they had seemed like a good beacon to run towards at the time she had begun running. _Duncan had gone ashore with her shift of men… He could be anywhere in the city, and not due back for another twenty hours yet…_

They young lady pirate could have cried at the helplessness she felt, but instead settled for cursing aloud at the harbor and seemingly empty docks.

"BLOODY HELL, DUNCAN, YE SLACK-JAWED WHORESON OF A SCOUNDREL—WHERE ARE YE WHEN I NEED YE!"

Of all the replies she was expecting to get from that tirade, a returning complaint was at the bottom of the list.

"Right here, ye dunderheaded whelp, ye! No need t'shout, m'not bloody deaf!" The pirate known as Duncan sat up blearily from where he had been napping against a pile of crates in the afternoon sun. He scowled at her, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head.

"DUNCAN!" Kelsea yelped, all but bodily throwing herself upon the man in her relief and surprise at his sudden appearance. Her shipmate grunted at the sudden hug, and allowed her to squeeze him for a moment before pushing her back.

"Ye've gone bloody mad this time fer sure, 'aven't ye, lass?" He grumbled, still a bit annoyed at the fact that she had woken him so roughly. Ignoring that particular accusation, the raven-haired teen's face suddenly darkened again as she remembered why she had been so desperate to find him.

"Duncan… Th'redcoats… They—They've…" she stuttered, and suddenly the annoyance was gone from the other man's face. He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked squarely into her face.

"What? What about the redcoats? Spit it out, lass!"

"Th-they got 'im." She paused here, wondering if what she had said was true, and then realized that it was—_she felt his desperation somewhere inside of herself—_ "They got Captain Sparrow."


	22. A Brand of Insanity

So the professors are still cramming it down my protesting throat-- But here I am attempting to have some regularity in my updates! Yes, I know that they're still sporadic, but believe that I'm trying. Heh. I suppose my note about this chapter would be to explain that it does not tend to do much in the way of fantastic plot advancement-- that which _does_ ensue serves mostly to flesh out a few more characters, to have a bit of fun with banter, and to provide a nice big spoonful of that special brand of Captain Jack Sparrow insanity. The next installment will have more action-- promise. Hope you all enjoy this and please tell me if you do (or if you don't)!

...TanzFieber

Two pirates stood at the end of a pier in Madras, India and for a few long moments, neither of them spoke. Duncan's hands were hard on Kelsea's shoulders, but his eyes were even harder.

"Yer sure of it, then? Those bastards got th'captain?"

Finding no words to answer, the teenaged buccaneer could only nod, the worry in her eyes speaking certainty. For a minute she wondered what he would do, wondered whether he would have the plan that she so needed him to… And after an anxious pause, Kelsea Sparrow got her answer.

Duncan straightened up and placed a hand on her shoulder, the weight of it an odd comfort.

"Alrigh' then. Well, th'two of us stannin' 'ere like a pair o' bumblin' redcoats won' be much use… S'pose th'first thing t'do would be t'muster all hands back t'the ship, eh?" He winled and the girl let out a nervous laugh at the Naval slur, more relieved than she cared to let on that he had been the one to take initiative.

"So stir yore stumps, ye dozy lubber—back to th'_Pearl_!"

"Dozy lubber yeself, insufferable cad!"

And, grateful for at least a short-term goal, the two fell to launching a longboat and pulling for the dark-winged lady whose captain had been captured.

**OF COBBLED STREETS…**

"Uuuughhhh…"

A breathy groan found its way from dry lips and Captain Jack Sparrow slowly opened his eyes. _What the bloody hell?_ For the world he found before him now was being viewed from a swinging vantage point— the pirate was slung between two men of the East India Trading Company, and they were carrying him non-too-delicately towards some undisclosed location. The pirate groaned again, feeling his whole body throb in concert.

"Sharp eye, Gabriel, the scoundrel seems to have awaken."

Upon hearing the voice, Jack glanced upwards and found himself looking almost straight up the nose of the man holding him by the arms. Down the other end of his body, there seemed to be a similar redcoat suspending him by the ankles. _Not good._

"Aye, Lieutenant," answered the ankle-toting soldier, who was apparently named Gabriel. "Strike me, this blackgaurd weighs like a ton 'o bricks!"

"I've actually been told that I've a rather striking an' slim figure—"

_SLAM!_ replied a rifle butt from another soldier marching beside the awkward trio.

Still swinging like a rag-doll on a rotisserie, Jack Sparrow cursed himself in three different languages for his irrepressible tongue, and then cursed the soldiers in three more. Clearly, wit would not be the way out of this situation. After regaining his breath from the blow, the captain tried again.

"Y'know gents, I was thinkin' maybe we could 'ave a liddle parley—"

_WHAM! _said the rifle butt.

"As honorable men of the crown, we do not parley with idiots."

"Easy mate, I never asked ye t'talk wiv Barty Greenwotsit—"

_THUD!_ the rifle butt got the final word again.

Jack curled up as best he could around his newly bruised ribs and muttered a few more curses. _He _really_ needed to learn when to hold his tongue…_ _Suppose that would be something to add to the list of things to do—assuming that he lived through the next day_…The captain grimly speculated through waves of pain.

The small battalion of soldiers tromped onwards through the rough-cobbled streets, one pirate strung out between them in shackles. Now, Captain Jack Sparrow was the accomplished master of many arts—unfortunately, the art of keeping his mouth conservatively shut seemed to be elusive as of yet.

"Could ye at least be nice chappies an' inform me as t'where yer non-too-gently haulin' me off to?"

"Judgement day." Said one of the soldiers, and then that damned rifle butt sang him another lullaby.

**THE BELL TOLLS…**

A dark-haired girl clung one-handedly to a dark-hued mast, the other arm shielding her dark eyes. Over the crook of one arm hung a bronze bell, and she hefted its weight back to her fingertips.

_CLANG CLANG CLANG!_

Kelsea Sparrow winced at the loud sound, and also at the uncomfortable shockwaves that were reverberating up her arm. Despite both, she struck the bell again.

_CLANG CLANG CLANG! CLANG CLANG CLANG CLANG CLAAAANNNGGG !_

"HALLOO TH'MAST!" Came the shout from below, and the girl stopped to glance down at the diminutive figure on deck.

"AYE?"

"BELAY THAT BLASTED RINGIN' AN' CLIMB DOWN, SCAMP! YE'VE BEEN BEATIN' THAT BLOODY THING ROUND CAPE HORN FER TH'PAST HOUR, ME HEAD'S ABOUT T'SPLIT!"

In spite of her worry, the young pirate grinned at the words that floated to her ears from afar.

"STOW YER WHININ', OLD MAN! I'VE NOT BEEN AT IT FER MORE 'N TEN MINUTES!"

Even though he was obviously too far away to see, Kelsea knew that Duncan would be shaking his head at her with an exasperated half-smile before shouting back to her.

"AYE, AN' BY ME POOR ANCIENT EARS THAT'S ABOUT TEN MINUTES TOO LONG! GIDDOWN FROM THERE, YE UPSTART PESTILENCE!"

The seventeen-year-old allowed herself a chuckle and a rolling of her eyes before once again shouldering the bell and beginning the descent. "ON ME WAY, GRANDAD!" So she never _could _seem to relinquish having the last word.

From his place below amidships, Duncan found himself marveling at his youngest shipmate's uncanny ability to traverse wind-singing lines with no more trouble taken that simply strolling across the deck. _If ever there was a lass with pirates blood… _he thought with a touch of affection, but then his heart gave a jolt as she literally jumped from one track of ratlines to another. _Mother o' God--! Daft like Jack indeed!_

And then she was standing in front of him, arrival heralded by a light thump. Breathing lightly, but otherwise unfazed, Kelsea smiled sideways at her friend.

"Quick enough for ye, Creaky Bones?"

Coincidentally having just been thinking about how her agility made him feel stiff and old, Duncan snorted and swatted at her. "Away wiv ye, unprincipled braggart! Think ye'd better anchor yerself t'somfin afore that inflated head o' yers carries ye home t'the Caribbean!"

Kelsea danced backwards to avoid the playful attack, but then her smile faded as reality re-fell on her like an anvil. Always perceptive, her friend noticed and also sobered his expression.

"Duncan… What're we goin' t'do?" She asked quietly, more aware than ever of the uncertainty that came with her youth. "What if th'men didn't hear the bell? Should I ring it s'more?"

The mate's hand, in a switch from that slap to a comforting squeeze, landed on her shoulder gently and his eyes met hers. "Easy, Lass… They 'eard it, an' if not… well, we've got enough on watch t'make a go of it."

The girl stared at him bemusedly. "Make a go of _what_—?"

Duncan merely shrugged and gave her a wink to go with a somewhat crooked grin. "Oh, whatever we maggot-brains cook up—somethin' completely daft, more 'n likely."

The statement received a smile, but it didn't reach dark eyes. "And for now..?"

"For now—" Both pirates of the _Black Pearl_ turned to gaze at the port of Madras as it sat bathed in scarleting sunset hues. "—we wait."

**OF NAVAL EMBATTLEMENTS…**

_"Ahhhh, this's th'life…" Mumbled Jack Sparrow drowsily, stretching his arms back and lacing fingers behind his dread-locked head. Lounging in a hammock strung between two palms, he swung back and forth idly as he gazed out at pristine clear sea. Beside him, a veritable mountain of rum bottles was stacked in a caramel-colored glass pyramid. Breathing deep of the salty sea and the sweetness of rum, Captain Sparrow smiled and dropped his tri-cornered hat over one eye._

_Just then, however, a beautiful woman appeared seemingly out of nowhere and he sat up a bit in mild surprise. "Oi, where'd you come from, Luv?"_

_The buxom mystery girl simply smiled at him and leaned over, one hand caressing his face. _What was this—? _He wondered, for surely this was too good to be true?_

_She leaned closer, and well-aware of what the result would be, Jack parted his lips in anticipation of a kiss. Somehow, though, at some undisclosed location in the six-inch distance that separated them, the tender kiss became a glancing blow to the cheekbone—!_

_"OUCH! What th'bloody Hell—!" yelping at the unexpected attack from a seemingly harmless source, Captain Sparrow pitched out of his gently rocking hammock and thumped down on—_

—The damp, rough stones of a prison floor. Grunting loudly at the impact, Jack's eyes sprang open to a reality far from a sun-drenched, rum-soaked paradise. The tiny room in which he now lay prone replaced the pristine beach, the tumble from a comfortable hammock now appeared to have been two burly redcoats chucking him into the cell, and _apparently,_ he thought upon bringing the heel of one hand to a rapidly swelling eye, _his slap-happy exotic temptress had been a none-too-easy-on-the-eyes, portly man with a cudgel. How bloody marvelous._

"Mmph…" Jack mumbled, checking his protesting body for signs of significant damage. Finding nothing that was of immediate and dire concern, he brightened considerably and sat up. "Thanks fer th'lift, mates."

Lieutenants Dawson and Lapworth of the East India Trading Company, for those were the soldiers who had provided said lift, scowled fitfully. "Shut your scurvy mouth, pirate, before I come in there and sing you to sleep myself!" said Dawson, banging his rifle threateningly against the iron bars. Unfortunately, it seemed to not have the debilitating effect that the young man had been aiming for, rather the opposite— the irrepressible Captain Sparrow perked up and batted his eyelashes at his captors.

"Sing t'me? Really? I'm deeply flattered, son, but my first and only love is the sea."

Dawson struck the bars again, an embarrassed and angry flush creeping to his cheeks at the insinuation. "I said _shut _your mangy gob, scum!"

"Oi, there's no need fer that," Jack assumed his expression of injured innocence, one hand clasped to his chest as if he had been deeply shocked and offended. "One minute yer offerin' a lullaby an' th'next yer tellin' a body to shut 'is _mangy gob_—? Make up yer mind, lieutenant, eh?" He scooted back a bit so that his back was against the wall, crossed his boots at the ankle, and saluted his attempted-tormentors. "Now then, all this talk about lullabies 'as gone an' made me rather sleepy, as it were… So 'ow 'bout you two bonnie sailors run along an' I'll jus' catch a catnap."

Dawson and Lapworth could only gape in shocked annoyance at the airs this pirate was putting on. _Imagine being locked in a stinking cell, bound for the gallows—and acting as if you were his royal highness on the throne! The man must be stark raving mad!_

And yet, right in front of their eyes, Captain Jack Sparrow of the _Black Pearl_ waved one defiantly careless hand dismissively and cocked the tri-cornered hat (that he had, _Lord knew how_, managed to hang onto) at a jaunty angle over his eyes. "G'night!"

Fully affronted by the prisoner's unconcerned gall, Lapworth sneered through the iron prison door and made his parting shot. "Right. Well, have a good sleep while you can, scoundrel— t'will be your last! Gallows at first light, _mate_!" The scathing tone dripped venom as the two marched off, laughing contemptuously.

The stale air filled with the sound of two pairs of boots marching up stone steps, followed by the bang of a heavy oaken door, and then there was nothing. Nothing but the sound of his own breathing. Nothing but the distant drip of water in a cell down the block, and the even more distant sound of the waves crashing on the far-off shore…

And Jack Sparrow, for all of his carefree bravado, for all of his light-hearted remarks, thought he could also hear the thump of a lever that dropped the trapdoor.

**THE COURAGE AND FORTITUDE…**

_"Do you have the courage and fortitude to follow orders and stay true in the face of danger and almost certain death?" _Looking out a the motley bunch assembled before her, Kelsea could almost hear those words as Jack had always said them… and she knew that the answer to said question was undoubtedly 'yes.' Each man in the crowd, no matter his haggard appearance, was a steady hand before the mast who ate, breathed, and lived the _Black Pearl_—They would not let herself, nor Jack, down. So thinking, the seventeen-year-old straightened up and cleared her throat loudly.

"Ahem—So sorry t'cut yer vacation short, mates, but—" She began, only to find that her voice had literally no standing over the sound of squabbling pirates. "OI!" She tried again, but still to absolutely no effect. The urgency of their plight sinking in, she looked helplessly to Duncan, who was leaning against the railing nearby. Their eyes met and then he was there beside her.

"AVAST, YE GUTLESS RABBLE!" Well, that certainly did the trick—every man there immediately shut up, with a slight bow, he nudged his young shipmate. "All yours, lass."

With a grateful smile, Kelsea opened her mouth to speak again, only to be re-cut off.

"'Ere, allow me." With a slight grunt and what seemed to be little effort, Duncan placed rough hands on Kelsea's waist and boosted her to the top of the railing, where she grasped a line with a muffled yelp of surprise. "There y'are, now we c'n see yore darlin' face proper."

The teen rolled her eyes at his grin, sent the crew a glare for their chuckles, and tightened her grip on the _Pearl's_ lines for a bit of physical and mental support. "Right. So, as I was sayin'… M'sorry t'have cut th'fun short, but we've got a bit've a problem, mates…" She had to take a breath for piece of mind. "Captain Sparrow has been… Shall we say, detained."

A ripple of surprised murmurs ran through the group, and Kelsea barreled on, trying to fight back her own worry.

"Aye, by our fav'rite bunch— Th'illustrious East India Trading Company."

The ripple of murmurs now had a distinctly indignant tone to them, and this time Marty could be heard yelling out over the sound of his companions. "Those dirty stinkin' whoreson bastards! I'll cut all their thrice-damned throats!"

Kelsea, for one, couldn't agree more, and seemingly it was the general opinion all the way around. However, she shouted to regain some semblance of order once again. _Besides, being indignant on Jack's behalf wouldn't save him from swinging at dawn—NO DON'T THINK IT!_

"AYE! Couldn' agree wiv ye more, in fact, Marty. But th'truth of th'matter is that this time he's really in trouble— bound for a last jig on th'morrow's first rays, as it were…" _And it's all my bloody fault_… she thought miserably, but held her tongue.

At this the crew quieted. _This was something serious_. It was a moment before anybody spoke at all, and when they did, it was a very nearly a plea. "So… So what're we goin' t'do..?"

The men turned to Kelsea, who in turn looked to Duncan. The additional moments of silence were unbearable. Finally, Duncan cleared his throat and moved to his shipmate's aid.

"Well, we were thinkin' that maybe we should all 'ave a say in that, mate—so here's th'thing. We welcome any an' all ideas. C'mon then, sing out if ye've got any harebrained scheme at all!"

After a moment of uncomfortable shifting from foot to foot, it was Marty's voice that floated to the fore once again. "There's th'Code t'consider, eh? I mean, ain't we s'posed t'keep t'the code? Ain't that what th'cap'n allus ordered anyhow?"

_Whatever man falls behind… gets left behind_. Every salt amongst them knew that rule all too well, and the mumbling alluded to the fact that there was some sort of disagreement over whether the Pirates Code should hold true in this situation.

"Well c'mon! Ye all know I like 'n respec' th'cap'n as much th'next scurvy blighter… but we got t'do what's right by us! Jack Sparrow was a good man an' a good cap'n, but 'e knows th'rule 'bout fallin' behind!"

"_AWK!_ Any port in th'storm!" squawked Mr. Cotton's parrot reasonably.

"Oi, that's not fair! Jack Sparrow is th'best cap'n any of us 'ave ever sailed under! 'E saves our necks from places we ain't got no logical right bein' saved from! We owe it to 'im an' we got t'do somethin'!" That was Kursar, shouting angrily above the rabble.

Marty's argument was practical, they all had to admit it—_those were the rules, and the captain lived by them the same as all the rest. _But Kursar was right too, they knew—_Jack had saved them from certain death on more occasions than anyone cared to remember. _

The discontented murmurs broke out again, this time in a louder volume. Sensing the conflict that the issue was bound to give rise to, Duncan called out to them all one more time.

"Alrigh' mates, ye all 'ave yer opinions, an' welcome to 'em, but we got t'come to some sort o' decision! So, all've ye fall out an' talk amongst yerselves 'bout what t'do an' then we'll 'ave a liddle vote. Clear t'every man?"

There was a half-hearted hail of _'ayes'_ and the crew of the _Black Pearl_ meandered off in groups to discuss the latest peril that had befallen their ship—the loss of her captain.

**A SPECIAL BRAND OF INSANITY…**

"What d'ye think they'll say, Duncan?" Kelsea Sparrow stood with her back against the starboard railing of the _Black Pearl_, eyeing the many small pockets of men who had gathered here and there to discuss a plan of action.

The man in question, he who had gotten her this far through the crisis, looked up from studying the dark planks of his ship and tapped his scruffy chin thoughtfully. "Well, some's easy enough t'predict—take Cotton fer example: th'man has always trusted ole Jack t'within Hell's very teeth an' I don't reckon he'd be givin' up on th'cap'n at this point. Same's wid Kursar, as ye might've noticed. Th'rest, though… Think it'd be 'ard t'say, lass. S'true enough like Marty says that Cap'n Sparrow knows th'code, an' ye can't really expect more of a pirate than t'follow which course'll do best by 'im… But m'not tellin' ye anythin' ye don' already know, am I, Kelso?"

Chuckling half-heartedly at her old friend's revelation, the young female pirate shook her chocolate-locked head. _He really _hadn't _said anything she hadn't instinctively been aware of._ "Well then what about yeself, me ol' mate?"

"What about me?"

"Where d'yer… shall we say, allegiances, lie?"

"Hmm… That _is_ an interestin' question…" As if fiddling would help him to think, Duncan drew a small dagger from somewhere on his person and began to twirl it between his gnarled sailor fingers. After a moment, he spoke. "Well, fact 'o th'matter is that Cap'n Sparrow ain't never done anythin' against me—not t'mention th'fact that most've me motivation t'keep alive is th'raw curiosity as t'what Daft Jack's goin' t'get us into next." He paused, as if remembering a few such occasions of bedlam, and chuckled with a bit of good-natured exasperation. "Y'remember the pigs," he asked, but it was a blatant statement rather than a question.

In response, Kelsea snorted and also allowed herself to remember the absurdity that had ensued when Captain Jack Sparrow had once, in the midst of a drunken stumble, dropped his beloved compass into a trough of pig slop outside the _Faithful Bride_. "As if anyone could ferget—I had jus' managed t'fall asleep when th'cap'n burst into the cabin raving that some _'thrice-blasted cloven-hoofed villain' _had eaten his compass… Took a fair amount o' confused questionin' t'get him t'admit that the wily bandit had, in fact, been a pig—"

"—Aye. An' _then _came th'part where 'e couldn' tell which animal 'ad swallowed th'thing… So 'e made every available man catch _every single _pig in th'port—" Duncan continued.

"—Think I still got th'bruises t'proove it, mate." The teenaged piratess finished, shaking her head with a non-too-well-disguised laugh. Easy nostalgic silence fell over the pair of them for a time, each remembering the special brand of insanity that only Jack Sparrow could command. Finally though, one of Duncan's rough-hewn hands fell once again to the girl's shoulder.

"C'mon lass— time t'call th'vote."


End file.
